The Moaning Top Incident

by Visiden Visidane

The Blackmoon Blades

Did any of you see the body of that dead stallion they found hanging by the main square's central tree? I knew that lad; mischievous and addicted to shocking others, but a good stallion. We caught him crudely depicting Princess Celestia and Princess Luna fornicating in their Heartland palace by the main square. We fined him for vandalism, gave him five lashes, then jailed him until he finished restoring his mess. Somehow, in his magically warded cell, he disappeared anyway. Now, he's dead. For those of you who didn't see the body, death appears to have been by poisoning. His ears have been cut off, and a crescent moon was carved on his belly.

This is Blackmoon Blade work. Maybe it's an imitator, in that case it's a damn good one, and clearly just as happy to follow their dogma. The Blades have been fading since the Blades of Nightmare incident, true, but outright dismissing them is a lethal folly. What few, scattered members they have still burn with the same fanaticism that forged them to begin with. Do not underestimate them or the lengths they will go through to follow their code.

We are now charged with hunting down this blade. Fortunately, he won't have the backing of his cult. During the height of their power, ponies who tried investigating them disappeared swiftly. Focus on newcomers to Arcanotropolis. This blade must have just arrived in this city since this is his first murder. These fanatics can't help themselves when they perceive an insult to their moon princess. Have air purifying and wind gust spells at the ready at all times. Do not eat or drink anywhere besides our mess hall until this blade has been caught, each meal cooked will undergo testing from now on. Do not attempt to engage the blade with less than a full squad.

I warn all of you, this blade is most likely at the end of his tether. His cult is on the verge of collapse, and the Barrier Lands as a whole is losing fear of and respect for Princess Luna. He will be eager to put on a show, and he will not fear death.

Arcane Mirror Fog Haze's Last Talk with the Arcane Knights

---

At the center of the Moonlight Rondo's base camp was the tent of Spared Rod, current Revel Master of the Moonlight Rondo. A prestigious position, as marked by having the largest tent, and the most colorful. All the colors of the rainbow swirled around the rather worn canvas while a big, smiling moon shone by the entrance flap. Thick plumes of yellowish smoke billowed from the open entrance, while some candles gave the inside a ruddy orange glow.

It took a great deal of restraint for Moon Sail to not set the damn thing on fire and listen to the screams of agony within with satisfaction. The tent was an abomination. It was a clumsy, undignified display of whimsy and ignorance. The colors clashed, there was no silver to represent moonlight nor dark blues and blacks to represent the night. Whoever allowed the tears, and bad patch jobs, should have been executed. The Blackmoon Blades worked long and hard to present the Moon Princess as regal, dignified, and awe-inspiring; a Princess Luna worth songs of praise. The Rondo presented the Moon Princess as a clown, inspiring nothing but mocking laughter.

And that awful stink...the thick, overpowering stench of burning befuddling grass mixed with the heavy, sweaty stink of unwashed ponies, pungent perfume, soured wine, and overripe fruit. It was an outrage. The ophidites used Befuddling Grass to subdue ponies. It was an instrument of slavery and Spared Rod used it for recreation.

Moon Sail wrinkled her nose, then spat on the ground, releasing all her disgust before putting the necessary mask on. It was a pleasantly smiling Moon Sail, the Moonlight Rondo's most reliable task mistress, who ducked under the entrance flap to make her way to the Rondo's leader.

The inside of the tent was far worse than the outside: used dishes piled high by one corner, waiting for lower ranking Rondo members to take them away, puddles of wine muddying the hard ground, and large, colorful cushions scattered clumsily about. Several ponies, mares and stallions alike, lay on those cushions in various states of befuddlement, eyes open and glassy, staring at nothing, breathing slow and deep to take in more of those foul fumes. They splayed about without a care, their throats exposed and just begging for a blade.

By one corner of the tent was a young colt, an earth pony urchin from a village the Rondo passed by that asked for work. He busied himself sweeping discarded bottles, cups, and burnt out cigars.

At the center of this decadent display was Spared Rod himself, puffing away on a large, rolled up wad of befuddling grass. His yellow coat glistened with patches of syrup, his long, bright green mane and goatee were unkempt and tangled with flowers, ribbons, and half-eaten pieces of fruit. He looked up at her, clearly in the middle of a stupor, and smiled his typical, crooked smile that he no doubt thought was charming. Yellowed teeth peeked past cracked lips, and more yellowish vapor seeped out.

"Moonie!" Spared Rod said. He held out the befuddling grass. "Puff?"

Moon Sail shook her head. "Perhaps later," she said. "I'm here about preparations."

Spared Rod pouted, his wrinkles turning him into a grotesque mockery of a spoiled filly who didn't get her way. "You always say later, Moonie." He did sit up a little straighter at the mention of preparations. "Did Sweet Cheeks agree?" he asked.

"Yes," Moon Sail replied. "The letter just arrived earlier. Sweet Cheeks and her retinue will arrive within the week, in time for the festival."

"Excellent!" Spared Rod crowed. "Begin construction of the cages, Moonie. Make sure they're sturdy. We'll have plenty of ponies pawing through them."

"Construction is already ongoing," Moon Sail said.

Provocatively dressed dancing mares and stallions inside cages...what did that have to do with the majesty of Princess Luna? Moon Sail snorted. About as much as puffing befuddling grass, she supposed. Or gorging oneself on wines and cheeses. Or whatever filth Spared Rod planned for the colt trying his best to clean up the tent. During the planning part of the preparations, Moon Sail suggested a small, quiet, moon-viewing party within the festival. The suggestion was immediately rejected, and a couple of ponies snickered. Moon Sail remembered their faces. Many of the Rondo will die by the end of this, but some will suffer more than others.

Spared Rod rubbed his hooves together. "Anything else?" he asked.

"A mare named Sassy Saffron came by," Moon Sail said. "She asked me to pass on a message: your special goods are ready and will be delivered at the agreed upon location at the agreed upon time. She expects premium prices."

Spared Rod's eyes lit up. "Oh.." he breathed. "That's excellent news." He glanced briefly at he cleaning colt. "More the merrier, I suppose."

"I don't recognize this Sassy Saffron," Moon Sail said. "She's not part of the Rondo, is she? May I ask what special goods she sells?"

"Oh, nothing important," Spared Rod said with a giggle. "Sassy is not within the Rondo proper, but she has been a very helpful contact."

Moon Sail bowed slightly. "I see," she said. "I'll take my leave then."

"Thank you for all the hard work!" Spared Rod called out after Moon Sail ducked past the entrance flap. In her thirty years of killing for Princess Luna's honor, she had never looked forward to a slaying as much as Spared Rod's.

She already knew who Sassy Saffron was. It was the ophidite tikhana known as Safaszan. The specialty goods were a group of young colts taken from some ophidite stable. This was a serious crime, worthy of execution by the Legion. Moon Sail didn't care. She wasn't Legion. She had no particular love for the Legion. The Blackmoon Blades cooperated with them in defeating the Blades of Nightmare. The Legion replied by executing every member of both groups they could catch, many of whom were longtime comrades. Moon Sail had no intention of working with them ever again. That they might later appreciate the death of Spared Rod was merely an unintended, secondary effect.

That was why Moon Sail held off just walking up to Spared Rod, slitting his throat, taking his ears, then escaping these stumbling buffoons. What was important was not just that death, but how it was going to happen. Spared Rod was not only going to die, but the wretched Moonlight Rondo was going to collapse all around him. This had to be a spectacle; a hideous affair worthy of the wrath of Princess Luna.

She trotted past other ponies of the Rondo going about preparations and towards her own tent, slightly out of the way of the other Rondo tents. Hers was not only isolated, but marked by its plainness and neatness. Inside was a single sleeping mat, a low table for meals, and a small chest for her belongings. Nothing out of the ordinary for good old Moonie, the helpful mare who joined the Moonlight Rondo a few months ago, but had proven so reliable that Spared Rod trusted her with some important tasks. It helped that most of these Rondo fools were permanently addled anyway. Worming oneself into their ranks was hardly a feat of master espionage.

Inside that single, locked chest was a false bottom which contained a pair of foreleg devices armed with extending blades, needles, small pellets that exploded with toxic gas on hard impact, and even a short, steel wire for garroting. A belt containing more envenomed knives lay next to them. This was all the equipment Moon Sail retained. She lost access to her full suit when the Legion discovered the Great Delve sanctuary. Moon Princess willing, she should be able to carry out her task anyway.

This would be the last task she would be able to do as a Blackmoon Blade. As one of the last. She had killed a great many ponies in the past, all in the name of Princess Luna. This would be the first and only time she would assassinate an entire organization.

It wasn't fair, truly. The Blackmoon Blades were going to fade into the mists of history despite all their training, their dedication, and their sacrifice. Yet, here was the Moonlight Rondo, a mob of drunks, addicts, and sex fiends, still existing supposedly in the name of the Moon Princess. Moon Sail looked to the future and feared what would happen. She had come to accept that the Blades would be forgotten. What she couldn't accept was that it was up to the Moonlight Rondo to, henceforth, represent Princess Luna to the ponies of the Barrier Land. Ponies would no longer fear the night, they would laugh at it, be disgusted by it, then treat it as a nuisance. This was unacceptable. If the Blackmoon Blades must fade into nothing, then the Rondo must disappear as well. The memory of Princess Luna, no matter how faint, would be that of fear and respect.

Moon Sail reached her tent at last, all too glad to be off some distance from the foul stink, the annoying laughing and singing, and the sight of so much indiscipline. To make her gladder still, a lone, cloaked pony stood just outside the tent. "Ice Carver," she said. "I passed the word, but I doubted that you would show up.

Ice Carver, the other Blackmoon Blade still alive, was not much a better sight than the filth of the Rondo. His woolen, dark brown cloak was ragged, stained and torn around the edges. It may protect him from the cold of the Western Barrier Land, but it did little to protect the world from his disheveled state. Moon Sail was several feet away from him, but she caught the stink of pus and weeping sores. Long, dirty, bloodstained bandages peeked out of his hood and dangled past his sleeves and edges. A couple of years had passed since she heard of his terrible laboratory accident. His burns did not look like they were going to heal much further. She could imagine him living with the agony for the rest of his life. It may be a mercy if his nerves had been destroyed, so that he was numb to everything.

"It's nice to hear the old name from somepony," Ice Carver said, in a soft, rasping baritone. "As nice as meeting a fellow blade after so long."

"Do you prefer 'Charred the Insane Apothecary?" Moon Sail asked.

Ice Carver shook his head. "How are, you, Moon Sail? Enjoying the Rondo?"

Moon Sail snorted, then glared. "I hope you have some tools for me. I cannot wait to get to work."

Ice Carver set down a large, leather sack. From the bulges, Moon Sail guessed it contained what she hoped for: heavy duty canisters of toxin. She had made her request, but what exactly was in there was up to whatever Ice Carver felt was worth mixing. She had specifics in mind, but she could work with anything lethal. Wing blades and a stinger device would be welcome as well.

"One of Red Sand's original recipes," Ice Carver said. "Refined by yours truly, of course: yellowish vapors, strong pungency, quick-acting, and silent. A single canister will produce a cloud around thirty feet in diameter, and four feet in height, perfectly simulating a cloudkill spell. The gas is heavy, so expect it to stay low on the ground and resist winds. Don't worry about pegasi flying out. They won't last that long. The gas is highly unstable, though, it will become inert a minute after full dispersal. Hopefully, your victims will be clumped together in large groups."

"Expected in orgies," Moon Sail said.

Ice Carver tossed the bag over to an easy catch by Moon Sail. The load was light enough in her mouth. "There are four canisters in there," he said. "The last big batch I'll ever make, I suspect. I wish your mission well, Moon Sail, it is a noble cause that even I didn't have the foresight to think of." With that, he turned away to leave.

"Is that what you told Snow Horn and the others when you recommended that they chase after that painting the wolven stole?" Moon Sail asked.

Ice Carver stopped, the wind picking his cloak up slightly. More of his body showed past the fluttering cloth. He was due for a re-bandaging. The ones he had on were loose and filthy, letting out the disgusting sight of burned, discolored hide. "I agreed with them that the mission was important, yes," he said.

"It was suicide," Moon Sail said. "As is this. As was working with the Legion. All by your recommendation. Don't think you've been that subtle, Ice Carver."

Ice Carver turned around, the wind having pushed his hood back enough to show his snout. He smiled, at least as much as those shriveled, blackened lips could smile, revealing yellowed, jagged teeth. "Does it matter?" he asked. "You will do this mission regardless of my push. Just as they did."

"I just want to know why," Moon Sail replied. "Before we part ways, before I die, share your thoughts, you who have served the Blackmoon Blades so loyally. All this time, you've edged your fellow blades into fatal missions. Why?"

"You've already answered your question," Ice Carver said. "You know I want the remaining blades dead. You know I'm helping you because you will die doing this. That you will stay the course further proves my conclusion. This version of the Blackmoon Blades must disappear, as Princess Luna has disappeared. All our skills and knowledge have been locked into a task that has proven pointless. Better that all of the old members die out, and a new generation with new, achievable goals can arise."

"Do the old members Include you?" Moon Sail asked, her forelegs crossed.

"Yes, especially me. Don't worry, Moon Sail. Look at me. I will rot away eventually. If that's all, I must be going. Your Rondo friends will not appreciate my presence. It kills the mood, I've found."

Though Ice Carver did fill her with disgust, Moon Sail allowed herself a small sigh. As shady as his motives were, he was still the last of her comrades. "Where will you go now?" she asked.

"Grain Basket," Ice Carver replied. "I just learned that my son got recently married. I think I'll pay my respects, then just disappear."

"What an ignominious end," Moon Sail said. "Goodbye, Ice Carver." She hefted the leather bag across her shoulder.

Ice Carver lifted a hoof in a slow wave as he walked away.

"Goodbye, Moon Sail."

Comments

[Beware The Carpenter]

Ice Carver is Sablesteel's grandfather?