• Published 12th Dec 2017
  • 11,532 Views, 351 Comments

The Anonymous Mr. Green Hill - Sipioc



Everyone knows about the newest resident of Ponyville. He was a criminal of some kind, was locked away, but was since paroled. He is quiet and keeps to himself, but it’s clear to some he is hiding something.

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Chapter 9

I hit the mud below, my forward motion causing me to slide through the slurry. It’s only a thin layer, beneath it I can feel a harder layer of clay. Giving a kick to my front hooves I try to remove the mud. I manage a snort, the bridle is making it difficult to breathe.

“Ugh, Nuhhs tah hhis.” Unless the Royal bucketheads were planning on coming down here and making me wear this, I sure as heck wasn’t going to. The lack of fingers makes it less than idea, and I nearly gag on it in the course of its removal, but I succeed in taking it off.

My jaw and tongue rejoice in the renewed freedom of movement, but my mouth still stings from the hard metal. Running my tongue over my teeth, I pause at the realization. I have something for that.

With a satisfied hum I toss the crinkly wrapper aside. The taste of the wicked metal washed away by blissfully sweet peppermint. Closing my eyes I feel my saliva begin to melt away at the sweet outer coating unleashing another wave of joy. I even manage a happy tippy hoof dance.

“Hey!” A gruff voice from high above barks through the darkness, only slightly muted by the wet earth. “We haven’t got all night, creep!”

It dampens my moment, but I dance two more steps out of spite and stick my tongue out at him. I know he can’t see me, but it’s like I'm almost daring him to come down here and say that.

Whatever. Let’s get to it.

Attaching the bridle to a leather strap, I lug the basket over my wither before then pulling the chain to get more slack as I move deeper into the cave.

In the pitch black the tiny ember stick lights about three feet in front of me, but that’s fine. Nothing but dirt and the occasional exposed tree root.

In the weak light I can see my breath condensed into a mist in front of me but my senses extend far beyond.

The thrum of magic is all around me, and I take a moment to listen. It echoes off the walls and swells into this point. Taking a few more steps into the pitch black, I can feel it start to pool, forming into the strongest concentration. There is an actual regression in the floor. It was sitting here for who knows how many hundreds of years, saturating the soil, causing a basin to form. Toxic to most other life forms. Not me though. Time to put it to some use.

Bringing my hooves out I slam them together. The white light of my bonds overtakes me for a moment before my sight clears. The cave seems smaller and I must now duck slightly to keep from touching the root covered ceiling. ’Careful, idiot.’ I remind myself, not relishing the idea of a cave in.

With my senses no longer dulled the magic in the air hits me like a punch to the throat, so similar I even gag. Only one thing for it.

Gritting the mint in my teeth I focus on it instead, letting the candy act as a filter between me and the rancid magic all around me as I then bring out the bag of sand I was given. Taking out a handful, I begin to pull at the energy around me. The action makes it visible as dark blue magic is draw to me like a magnet. Before I allow it to seep into me, I catch the aura between my hands. Pushing hard, I feel it resist and swell, the prickling sensation of the grit between my palms feels like ants crawling over my palms. I push past it and draw more into one point.

“One...two...three...four...five.” Each number has a press, each pause in between has a pulse of resistance. But it doesn’t escape. I know how to convince it that it doesn’t want to. Instead, after another few seconds, I release my grip, revealing the fruits of my endeavors.

Within my palm, about the size of a grape, sits a glass marble. Inside the dull blue magic softly glows. it's almost like a will-o-wisp, caught inside a bottle. If it weren't potentially hazardous, it would almost be pretty.

“One.” Eying it one more time before dropping it in the mesh basket.

Grabbing another handful of sand I keep going.

————————

The distinct rattle of the chain every so often meant that the Human was doing his part down there. Still, Agent Sweetie Drops wanted out of this Celestia forsaken forest. She could of been at home tucked in her bed rather than hanging out here in the open where any random beastie could just santer by with a curious ear to what they were doing.

Truth be told she didn’t have a clue what the big wigs up the mountain were doing with all this remnant magic, and even if she asked she knew she would get the same boilerplate answer.

‘That’s Classified.’

She was an Agent for the crown for years, she knew all about compartmentalization. Buck! She lived it even now. But this was the third collection this month. She was by no means a Arcane Specialist, but even just one of those orbs had the potential to power something big. ‘Or make a big boom.’ She mused to herself.

Sweetie Drops could get an idea looking over to the guards Command had sent. Specialized armor, but sloppily forged. Even so effective nonetheless if the human’s signs of anguish at their spear heads meant anything. That was something else that separated them from your typical guards pony.

They were gruffer, and not just toward the human but even her. Despite her years of service they seemed to be tight lipped about what was going on, not willing to part with anymore information than the basics of where and when operations were going to held. Cautious, no doubt. They carried themselves in a far more rigid way, more akin to outpost guards or even badland mercs. This was probably why they were picked for this case, so that he couldn’t lull them into a false sense of pity.

But then, where did that place her? She was growing somewhat accustomed to him. For the last two nights she didn’t put crushed glass outside her door to warn her if him trying to break in to attack her in the night. For all intents and purposes, he was towing the line. Even going so far as respecting the rules, both the serious; and mundane.

There was also that thing that Lyra said.

’The poor guy is trying. Can’t you see that?’

‘Was he?’. Sweetie couldn’t help but wonder. She had sized him up on their first meeting in the hospital. Haythorn had given her a full psych eval on him, but the Doc was a blow hard. Despite his rep for being good at his job, he liked his fifty bit words. No. A face to face chance was what she needed.

Overall? He was pathetic.

A shivering mess, that was just as scared and lost as a junkie. That is what gave her pause. He had dodged that question before, as to why he took magic from ponies. ‘He enjoys it.’. Whether it was some sadistic thrill or a dependency issue, she wasn’t sure.

But it was enough for her to want to remain vigilant. He was an addict he would likely stay one, just one slip up would be all it takes and ponies would get hurt. Lyra could get hurt.

She was prepared for that eventuality. Although, a part of her couldn’t ignore the other facts.

That now that he could understand equish, he genuinely realized he bucked up and that another strike would result in his hairless hide being thrown back to the pit. Which she knew he was more afraid of.

Another rattle of the chain, this time with a more deliberate shake signaled that the first batch was done.

She stepped to the hole as the Pegasus guard reeled in the basket. From the darkness a faint blue came into view before being snagged in the green aura of the unicorn guards magic before being unlatched and replaced with a second empty basket.

‘“One.” She mused to herself watching the second one get tossed down into the blackness below. Already a far less staggering breeze emanated from the slowly purified hole.

———————-


“….two...three...four...five.” Another press. Another blue marble for the basket. I let it fall with the nearly full bushel with a glassy knock. The light dancing around the hole like a dimly lit disco ball.

I’m not sure how long I have been at this, but long enough that the ember stick tied to my arm is starting to fade.

It’s fine. It’s intense work but nothing I can’t handle. In theory, with my feet soaking in natural earth energy, I can do this perpetually, though I shudder to think what would happen if they knew that.

The air down here was already beginning to clear; the heavy arcane mist within having dissipated to simply a musty smell of soil and tree roots. That’s a good enough sign as any that I can call it a night. Not like they would risk coming down here and checking. Nope. I’m the canary and the miner here.

The gate of the iron basket whines as I seal it up. The blue orbs flicker as I give it a test shake, making sure it doesn’t fly open. That happened once, had to start all over that night. Not something I plan on repeating.

Standing back up to my full height, I give a full body stretch. My arms and wrist tight with toil and my back popping from having to hunch over for the past few hours. It may be awhile before I can be normal again, so might as well enjoy it. I’m ‘on the clock’, as it were.

Still for all my brave talk, the bucket heads up there aren’t going to be any nicer if I take my sweet time.

With one final flex of my shoulders, I swing my arms together. My wrist shackles making a familiar clang as once again the cave grows a bit and my world becomes a bit dulled. My articulate fingers return to hooves and frame become a bit more constricted.

With a sigh, I reach down and grab the chain and wrap it around me as I turn to drag it back to the entrance.

I make an effort to look more tired than I am. This goes back to the fact that I don’t want them to know that this really isn’t all that hard for me. Last thing I need is for this to be nightly thing.

I can just make out the light that is seeping in when I suddenly feel my slack run out.

At first I think I am hung up on something. Odd, considering I just walked that way and I didn’t feel any rocks or roots that would do that. The floor was relatively smooth.

I give a tug, the rattle of the chain echoes to the back of the cavern I just was in. The clink of metal reassures me that I didn’t lose anything but it also has the bad fortune of covering another sound. A sound that now becomes all to clear when the chain finally drops back to the clay.

A deep, inhalation, followed by wet creaks

I am not alone in here anymore.

Slowly, I look back. My senses aren’t as good like this, but of what I can feel only confuses me. It’s not an animal.

As if it knew I peeked, the basket is then violently seized and ripped back into the darkness. The blue glow, having been swallowed up.

The chain, I had so ‘smartly’ wrapped over my withers goes bone crushingly tight, as the air is sucked out of my lungs sending a combination of a gasp and a shriek.

Not being able to cast the accursed thing off nor able to wiggle out of it I do my best to resist being pulled back with it. My efforts rewarding me with the chain starting to slide around my withers taking bits of my caparison and what I know is probably skin too.

Still I resist. I can’t bring my hooves up to change back, so I pull earth magic from the ground, but it’s only enough to slow my inevitable pull backwards. I can feel the chain sawing into my shoulder, right into the muscle, scraping the bone.

If there is pain I don’t feel it yet, as I am frantic to break free. Suddenly there is more slack and I look up with hope, only to find the chain spool has broken off from the surface, and is now bouncing it’s way right to me.

It’s then I stop resisting, but it’s too late, the last thing I see is the solid metal bounce one more time at my hooves before it meets the right side of my face.

A feeling of weightlessness takes me, but whether this is from being knocked out or the fact that I am now flying backward away from the surface.

Author's Note:

Well...this took forever.:twilightsheepish:

After two restarts it’s out. Gonna keep the momentum up if I can.