• Published 11th Mar 2019
  • 1,352 Views, 146 Comments

Graveyard Shift - TDR

Princess Luna forms her own group to deal with the threats to Equestria.

  • ...

Centaur of Power

Graveyard Shift

Centaur of Power

[ In a town without a name, in a heavy down pour]

The wooden wall at the front of the bar exploded outward, flinging the large yeti like creature out into the down pour, it's chest sizzling from where the mana bolt struck.

On the other side of the hole stood an oddity. It's lower body was equine, with long thin limbs as if it was designed after Princess Celestia's torso. While the creatures lower body too had white fur, there was no cutie-mark, and it was striped black like a zebra. Where the head should be is where it looked wrong to most. An almost minotaur like upper torso rose from the striped body where the head of a horse should be. Thin dark red fur covered this part of the body the fur meshing seamlessly into the white fur of her body a faint blending marking a rind around her waist like a belt. It's upper frame was nearly as thin as the lower, though there was a surprising amount of strength in it's arms and legs. A dark gray poncho covered the upper torso hiding the twin bulges on it's chest that marked this figure as female. A scowling face with glowing blue eyes stared out of the hole into the night the long limbs ending in hands that were still poised, still crackling with energy.

She whirled around to the rest of the bar glaring, her short dark blue hair whisking across small black horns on her head as she snarled at the other patrons The thin tail she had whisking with the dark blue brush of hair on the end striking the table behind her.

“Does any one else not wish to take NO for an answer tonight!?” the centaur snapped, her voice clear though holding an ice like edge.

Several other creatures, Diamond Dogs an abyssal and some unknown hunched over figures in the back of the bar quickly went back to their meals or drinks ignoring the centaur barmaid. The only one who did not was large green pig creature behind the bar who simply glared at her.

“Locasta.” The orc growled lightly nodding to the hole in his wall.

“He was the one who persisted.” the centaur protested.

“Which is why I'm only telling you to fix the wall and not kicking you out.” The orc grumbled before going back to cleaning the glass he was working on.

Locasta frowned, though she turned back to the wall, ignoring the pained yeti outside that was dragging itself away from the bar, her hands glowed as the wall slowly rebuilt itself. It was draining and one of her more complex spells, but she could still do it, she simply hoped she wouldn't need to use anything else big tonight before she could recover.

Most of the nameless little town knew of Locasta. The little bump along the old road between the Equestrian port of Wilmingtrot, and the Zebraica border was situated in the scant bit of no pony's land in between the two nations that officially was Equestria. The old road was barely used any more since a newer path had been cut through a few of the nearby mountains so the long winding road was usually only used by the the occasional farmer, the lost, or the ones who didn't want to be found.

There was a pirate port along another path that led to the little town of barely thirty souls, but the locals ignored the ones who used that path, and any one who did in turn ignored the locals.

Locasta was a bit of an exception, she had come up that path and sought residence here, with only Gruthbar, the owner of the Drunken Wombat Tavern being willing to put her up for work rather than bits.

No one knew the whole story save Locasta, though the bar owner knew more than most.

The Centaur was a mage, something that was highly illegal in her homeland, casting spells of any kind was forbidden due to the ancient crimes of a former prince of the nation, Tirek.

Unlike Tirek, however Locasta didn't drain others to power herself, she had her own pool of power and had taught herself in secret once she found out she could.

She had some power, but it wasn't that big of a pool to draw from and she had very few spells she could cast, most of them ragged and wasteful of her energy.

She had claimed she was found out and banished after she used her magic to save a younger sibling of hers from a cragodile.

The old orc believed her, she didn't try to hide things, was blunt and to the point about what she wanted and unless she was playing some sort of overly convoluted long con, which made no sense, her goal was to simply get better with her spells. Given she was the only real caster in town, she got quite a bit of practice around here.

Despite living here for about a month now, everyone, especially the pony residents, were still leery of her. Legends of her kind were not favorable and deeply ingrained.

She had made attempts to head towards Zebraica or further into Equestria to look for a way to refine and learn more magic, though on both sides of the boarder she was turned away from the cities at best, or driven off violently at worse.

He had heard her a few nights after the last rejection considering heading home, at least then she could die on her native soil rather than be hunted down by whatever faction finally got up the nerve to come after her.

That she didn't consider the pirate point she had come in from as a valid place she could make her way from was of a mild interest, though the bartender knew she was a bit of an honorable sort.

Still he didn't know any way to help her, and even if he did, no one did anything for free around here.

Maybe he could convince her to stay on, he wasn't getting any younger and her help had been useful for the past month.

A crackling boom shook the whole building as a blinding light flashed through the windows and the cracks between the wall panels.

Bottles and plates rattled on the tables and a more than a few curses and nervous laughs sounded as the ringing from the near thunder bolt strike faded from everyone's hearing.

Locasta moved to the door glancing outside, giving the old orc a glimpse as well of the empty street. Clearly the yeti had left before the bolt struck, that she worried about that spoke volumes of her character and showed she was more of an outsider here than those who didn't live in town. The centaur nodded and moved back to gathering dishes and refilling mugs.

Everything was normal for a while though there were a number of other thunderbolt strikes out in the valley, none as close as the first however. Some of the patrons started counting, seeing how far away the strikes were from the flashes, hoping the storm was moving off

Suddenly there was a brilliant flash at the front of the building and many slapped claws and other appendages over their ears waiting for a massive boom, one that never came.

A moment or two after the flash of light a cloaked figure stepped through the front door.

At first glance it was a pony, a rather large one at that, with a dark blue muzzle and a spiraled horn of the same color that poked out of a mane of swirling stars that barely stayed still under the cloak's hood. A faint shift on her back under the cloak hinted at wings.

Half his customers fled out the back door at the sight of her.

The other half just used the closest window.

Author's Note:


We have a mage