Stumped
Flying low, slow, and steady, Sundance began his bombing run. Wings rigid, he settled into a smooth glide, which allowed his body to be mostly still, all with the hope that his aim might improve. In his fetlock, he gripped a javelin, a gift from Scram. Maybe an accidental gift, as it was found in the wooden cargo crate, along with a note from Scram. He wasn’t sure what to do with his eyes, as he needed them to fly straight ahead, but he also had to line up his target, a soft, rotten stump in the middle of a field of wildflowers.
As he flew over the stump, he let go and allowed gravity to do all the hard work.
The javelin fell, heavy point first, and struck into the soil about a yard away from the stump. This kept happening, much to his dismay. Same spot every time. It was amazing, actually, just how reliably he hit the target—but the wrong target. Every single time though. Just a yard off. Frustrated, he grumbled a bit—sounds that had no words—and he banked so that he could swoop down to retrieve his javelin. How could he miss like this yet hit the same spot with every pass? He’d started weeks ago, and all of his hard work and repeated efforts had only this as a result.
With a flap of his wings, he broke groundward in a power dive, pulled up at the last minute, soared mere inches over the swaying wildflowers, snatched the javelin from where it stood, and then began his ascent. He shook the dirt and grass from the leaf-shaped tip, scowled, and then increased his speed so that he could position himself for his next bombing run.
Pegasus ponies were known for their skill with the javelin, and all of his failures left Sundance feeling rather inadequate. Oh, he could hit a target… just not the target he wanted, it seemed. Always a yard off, in just about the same spot every single time. If only he could figure out what he was doing wrong. In a bit of a snit, he leveled out, flexed his primaries to grip the unseen currents of magic that rose from the earth—an act done by instinct—and then he began his low, slow approach with the rotten stump as his target.
The steel javelin was both warm and cool in his fetlock; warmest in the center, where he gripped it with his fetlock, but the metal remained cool beyond the tightest part of his grasp. A brave butterfly swooshed by his face and was nearly sucked into his wake. This distraction was ignored though, as Sundance was determined that today would be the day he would hit the stump. The warm sun soaked into his scarred back and left his muscles hot. Ears back, eyes narrowed, javelin raised at the ready, Sundance knew that his approach was perfect—but how he knew this was unknown to him.
Once more, he let go…
And yet again, the javelin stabbed into the earth a mere yard beyond the stump.
“Oh, fronk me!” he shouted, thankful that his mother was in a whole different time zone.
He somersaulted in mid-air, doubled back on his flight path, and dropped right on top of the stump. Glaring, scowling, teeth bared, he panted out all of his disgust and his fury while he stared at the steel javelin a yard away from the stump. This was intolerable. Was something wrong with his eyes? His method? What was he doing wrong? His approach? It made him so angry that he wanted to stab something—if only he could hit his target.
No cup of tea could cure his seething rage. A roll in the grass would not salvage his mood. The butterflies and bees bore witness to his savage fury. Hackles raised, teeth bared, his tail lashing the air behind him, his ears rigid with apoplectic rage, he allowed a truly fearsome growl to come reverberating out of him, and he did nothing to hold it back. It was the sort of anger that he always feared, the anger that both his mother and father warned him about, an anger that good pegasus ponies always repressed and held in.
Except alone, all by himself in a field, Sundance let it out and reveled in the hot sensation. His fevered skin rippled over twitching muscles, his nostrils quivered, opening wide and almost closing, and his sides heaved with every heated breath. Sweat rolled off his back, soaked into his feathers, and his mane was plastered to his neck. What terrible fury he held within, what nightmarish temper existed beneath the thin veneer of civilised pegasus. A hot-blooded brute thrashed about, demanding to be free, and Sundance could almost feel something bucking around inside of him.
“I could tell you what you are doing wrong…”
At the sound of the strange voice, Sundance yanked his head up, his ears pivoted wildly to locate the source, and his eyes darted about in every possible direction. He whirled left, then right, then turned himself about, his anger all but forgotten. His tail though, was still quite persnickety, and it showed. After a good look about, he spotted no signs of his visitor, which alarmed him. There was a copse of trees some distance away, and he concluded that had to be the spot, as there was no other cover.
“Look, if I was hunting you, you’d already be food. You don’t do anything to watch your own ass. When my insomnia won’t let me sleep, I like to watch you.”
“Uh… really?”
“Yeah,” the gritty voice said, “you’re a regular laugh riot.”
The quip caused his jaw muscles to clench and Sundance’s eyes transformed into angry slits.
“Like right now. I mean, you’re angry, that much is obvious, but there is nothing threatening about you. At all. In the slightest. Which I feel I can get away with saying, because your aim is terrible.”
“How about you show yourself?” he demanded.
“The tough-guy approach. Admirable. But if I showed myself, the tough-guy act would turn into a puddle between your hind legs. I’m better off as a mysterious voice.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked.
“I live here,” was the smug reply. “Uh, in fact, I’ve lived here for a while now, and I’ve been keeping a watch over you and your little patch of quiet paradise. Before you ask why, I’ll tell you; because it is now my little patch of quiet paradise. I’ve earned my keep as a guard. You just don’t know it.”
“Well,” Sundance said as he drew himself up to his full height, “you’ve done a lousy job. There was a giant ass-eating spider in the shitter just this morning.”
“I suppose there’s no point in telling you about the owlbear I chased away.”
Sundance paused to consider. If this was true, then some thanks was in order. However, if this was false, a clever ruse to gain his confidence—except that he had no way of knowing. Uncertain now, he reconsidered his poor attitude, and chose a more noble approach. He relaxed his posture a bit, allowed his ears to unkink, and made his tail behave. With no idea of who, or what he dealt with, it was better to take a neutral, cautious approach.
“Yeah, that’s more you, from what I’ve observed. I can almost take you seriously now.”
“Do you have a name?”
“Yes,” came the reply. “I do, in fact, have a name. I bet you’d like to know it, Sundance.”
Ugh, this irked him a great deal, but he maintained his noble bearing. “May I have the pleasure of your name?”
“This really is a better version of you than the tough angry you. You just look silly.”
He tried again. “May I please know the name of my most watchful subject, the one who lives on my land without my consent or my knowledge?”
“Actually… you granted hunting rights. I came to hunt, and then I just never left. Found a nice cave, killed the wyvern in the cave—which I should mention, probably would have hunted your peasants sooner or later—and my hunting trip became an extended stay. I’m not welcome back home.”
“I wonder why…”
“The whole smart-ass thing doesn’t really work for you, Sundance. For one thing, it’s just not in your nature to be a jerk, and two… from where I stand, you’re food. I ate the wyvern. You’re far more snack-sized.”
This… this was unsettling. “I would very much like to know your name. Policy, you see. As the Baron, your Baron, I like to know my subjects. My residents. The last thing I want is to be called an aloof, out of touch noble.”
“You’re throwing the javelin as you’re right over the stump. There’s a thing called momentum, and it is transferred to what you throw. The javelin doesn’t fall straight down, your momentum causes it fall diagonally. All you need to do is let go sooner, before the stump is directly below you, and you’d probably hit bullseyes every single time. But don’t get a big head about that, or anything. It’s not skill, or anything special, it is just what pegasus ponies do. Goodness though, some of your kind are just full of themselves.”
It was hard, resisting the urge to facewing. Every muscle in his body demanded it be done, but that wasn’t a noble thing to do. He almost ached with the irresistible urge to swat his own brains out. It made so much sense. Why didn’t he know this? Sheepish, embarrassed, he didn’t know what to say, how to respond, or even how to behave right now. This was awkward, the sort of awkward that just endured and grew worse with each second that passed.
“If I were you, I’d be embarrassed too.”
There was a faint whistle as Sundance inhaled through clenched teeth.
“Yes, I do in fact, know what you are thinking and feeling. It’s a curse. And part of the reason why I’m here.”
He found himself intrigued. “Just how is it that you know what I’m thinking?”
“Funny story,” the voice replied. “Allow me to start at the beginning. A long, long, long, long, long time ago, Princess Luna had a brilliant idea about creating a race of super-soldiers. Fine idea, by all accounts, at least from what little I know. She began cataloguing the toughest, meanest, most enduring creatures in all the land. When she couldn’t find what she was looking for, she had what she wanted custom bred, because the Royal Pony Sisters had that sort of power back in the day. They could tell you, ‘Fronk that,’ and you’d go and fronk that if you knew what was good for you.
“So Princess Luna bred creatures of nightmarish proportion, and while I’m sure we were pretty awesome, we just didn’t have that little special something-something that Princess Luna hoped to find. She bred herself with us, her own creation, but still, no joy. So she did what any self-respecting lunatic would do in her situation. She shaved off a sliver of her own soul, and spliced it into us, her nightmarish offspring.
“More specifically, she sheared off a portion of her soul that allows her to dreamwalk, and read minds, the part that makes her a powerful psychic. We shared her blood, and then we were infused with some of her soul, which spliced right in because of the whole shared blood thing. After that, we were purpose bred. Those of us who showed promise and had the desired traits were bred with others who also had those traits. This happened for over a thousand years or so, with a lot of successes, but also some pretty colossal failures. Like me. I’m a tragic failure.
“And that’s how Princess Luna created a species of nigh-unstoppable psychic super-soldiers. Oh, and sad, pathetic, unwanted mental cripples, like myself. The successes are flaunted in public, and are now the stuff of legends. As for the failures, we’re politely asked to not draw attention to ourselves.”
With all these words still heavy in the air, Sundance deflated. The bitterness and resentment in the scratchy, gritty voice was impossible to ignore. Every word carried with it palpable pain, which slipped into his ears and lodged into his brain. He stood there, mute, unable to respond, and he feared that his silence might make him seem callous, or otherwise uncaring.
“You have nothing to worry about… I can read your mind. And that’s the problem. My problem. Why I am off by myself. That’s the reason I live alone, away from others. I can’t turn my telepathy off. Which means I always know what others are thinking… and what my own kind think of me. Not a great life, really. Everypony knows that you are a mistake… a flaw… a failure. Kind of sucks, but what can you do?”
Then, after a pause, “Well, I know what I did. I left. Now I’m here. And while it feels nice to talk, I’m already getting a headache. I think I’ll be going.”
“Wait,” Sundance said. “You never told me your name!”
There was no response. The copse of trees rustled, and then something immense sprang up from the treetops. A massive, shaggy creature with leathery, batlike wings rose up into the sky. It—she—Sundance thought it was a she, but it was really difficult to discern. Whatever it might be, it slowly rose up into the sky, a silhouette cut from the very fabric of nightmares. Smoke curled from her mouth, as if she was some terrifying steam-powered abomination.
He could not tell what colour she was, only that she was dark. Dusky. A creature draped in ambiguous greys, blacks, and indistinguishable hues of blue. Parts of her wings were almost translucent in the sun, which made them appear blue, though they might very well be some other colour. Her body was magnificent, it was as if a pony had been bred with a locomotive, and he could not look away. Sunlight glinted off of her mirrored goggles when she cast one final, parting glance in his direction.
Then, she was gone. He watched her go, mesmerised. Spellbound. Enraptured. Enthralled. Engorged. It was only after she was gone, a speck in the distance, that he noticed his arousal. Never in his life had he ever been so aroused. She was perfect, beautiful, a creature made of muscle and violence, with a hard, chiseled body.
He desperately hoped that he would see her again.
So begins a long and confusing friendship. She comes to talk, he listens, and then she's gone. This'll go on this way for quite some time. Prepare to be frustrated. 
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Well this is interest
I think I wanna know more
His peasants wanted a Baroness. I’m not sure they wanted a mildly defective psionic super-soldier with the musculature of an ox and the carnivorous tendencies of a crocodile, but the ancient principle of WYGIWYGAINGW will see them through.
(What You Get Is What You're Given and It's No Good Whining)
INTERESTING
I wonder how she processed his response to seeing her? Based on her description of herself, I can't think that she would have been expecting that level of awe or admiration.
.... I like big bats and I cannot lie!
Her: "I'm a hellacious beast of death and murder, and I'm one of the failures."
Him: *boioioing*
Also, I'm calling her Paprika until she has a proper name.
Well, there's probably at least the same number of generations between them as any random stranger is from you or I. So if they hook up it won't be weird.
Guh. Luna or Celestia haven't created a gadget to tone that down or turn it off?
9895997
Unfortunately from what we know of draco-pony mating from other stories (warning mature) is that it's quite violent and involves their teeth.
So producing an heir would result in Ms. Supersoldier either having to settle for boring, unsatisfying sex or be fatal for our young baron.
this sounds like a awesome side story in the making.
If we're going to be frustrated, I feel damned sorry for Sundance.
I'm sure Officer Mom knows what he said.
I can't imagine how terrible that would be.
Well, his body sure knows what it wants. I'll be interesting to read how she responds to his interest.
OoOooooOOOooooo I am intrigued :D
9896030
Don't laugh. Almost forty years ago in West Germany, I walked into a goth bar, met a woman who looked like Anjelica Huston as Morticia Addams with leather and razor blades, and I instantly made a fool of myself over her. And got thrown out THROUGH the bar window for my rude behavior.
Later, as I learned to behave like a human instead of a horn-dog, I got a second chance with her.
Worth every moment of pain it took to straighten out my head. :D
Heh. You got a type, huh?
9896688
Yeah. Do not confuse the author for the characters. Nothing kills the will to write quite like that. When people do that, it is like pressing the hiatus button on a story.
*steps up to the mic*
“Well now. She really helped straiten his spear out.”
Ba-dum-‘tis!
Here's hoping she found those thoughts flattering... also, Luna is a LUNATIC!
Have you read the Swans stories? Luna is completely nuts, but a sweetheart when you get through that defensive layer.
9896695
Yeah, remind me to stick the actual character's name in there next time.
9897315
Thank you. Really. I am relieved. Like, you have no idea.
Their second encounter is gonna be interesting.
9896133
Sounds like a job for Paradox, enchanting dragon-pony safe lingerie for the Baron?
Baron be part moth with how much he does to get burned.
Meanwhile back at the Barony, the old mare Sauerkraut shuddered with dred.
“The Lewd! It's returned! Milord the lewd has returned!"
9896060
Luna's project, Celestia likely hasn't done anything more than look over reports and make sure the budget keeps moving in that direction. As for the failures - who can tell? If this one can prove she's still useful even as an unwanted failure I'm sure the precious (ungodly precious) time and resources would be spent. But she's out of the breeding program for sure, which is practically their lives from what we know - "kill whom you're told, breed with whom you're told". All for the sake of making a stable, powerful guardian, that is civilized enough for ponies to not reject.
If she doesn't prove to Luna she's worth the trouble, then just like mutations in nature who don't adapt or evolve the right way, they'll probably just let her die off. Which seems horrifying to a purely civil mind, but absolutely normal in the spirit that Luna's taking with them.
How about the telepathic equivalent of a Faraday cage as a helmet?
Powerful psychic powers, huh? Join the Blood Ravens Adeptus Astartes chapter today! Serve the Emperor and
steal heretical items/ everything that isn't bolted downpreserve the Imperium's knowledge.Geeze...only you Sunset! ONLY YOU!!!
As much as I shake my head and go "REALLY??", this is also basically his dream woman mostly...<.<;
So we get are first glimpse at a possible Sundance ship. I totally approve. Slow and steady wins the race Sundance.
Sundance....you neeeed that female.