Starscribbles

by Starscribe

Finding Yourself

Arthur dragged himself through the forest, with all the coordination of a one-legged penguin. Some part of him wanted to find a sturdy tree, curl up, and wait to die—but that was a small part. He’d known that the moment he stepped through the many-angled door that almost anything could be on the other side.

They won’t find me here. At least there’s some consolation to all this. Suck a dick, Agular. Send the Cabal after me, see how much good it does.

Of course, some part of him suspected Hierophant Agular and the rest of Enlightened Boston would probably approve of this fate. It was only proper that a wizard who had broken the Pax Arcanum should be reduced to an animal for the rest of his days.

Arthur had four hooves now, practically innate lumps that at once were far too sensitive to the little rocks and pebbles under them, and simultaneously too clumsy for somatic casting. Even if he had brought any power—and he hadn’t—he wouldn’t have any way to use it.

He was a horse, at least the best he could figure. A horse that was yellow and orange and somehow different than any horse he’d seen before. The eyes were too large, his limbs too flexible.

This has to be what passes for intelligent life here, right? My safeties wouldn’t fail me now.

It was the only measure he’d been able to take, a gamble that had apparently paid off. The many-angled door opened into an infinity of realms, each one only a shade different than the last. But a single variation in the construction of an important amino acid could guarantee death by starvation, or something different about the atmosphere might mean swift suffocation.

Birds sung overhead, and the warmth of the sun felt good on his bare back. No objects could survive the passage, or else he might’ve been able to prepare some kind of escape from this place.

I wonder what horses are like here. Their language can’t be that hard to learn. They’re basically animals.

And now you’re one of them, Arthur. Would the Cabal’s justice have been harsher than giving up the Art? Harsher than eating grass?

He could still feel his sweaty hands as he shuffled the dials and knobs at random, thoroughly scrambling the delicate Worldgate until he was certain it could correspond to no known destination. Most of the Book of Worlds contained only nightmares. He was better off playing the odds.

His eyes caught the first sign of life in the distance—structures! Adorable wooden constructions with thatched roofs and slightly pinkish glass, rising above the trees. Maybe the natives weren’t as primitive as he thought!

He sped up, and without meaning to his body broke into a trot, legs moving entirely on their own. Transformation was always that way—the brain came pre-configured with how to operate whatever hardware, so long as your conscious mind didn’t get in the way. Some Willworkers even got lost in the casting, forgetting themselves to strange bodies.

That’s what I am now. Arthur Harrison is dead. Long live… horse.

He stumbled abruptly over a little rim of rocks, then onto a proper trail of graded soil, right through the woods. Probably a walking path these strange creatures used. At least it would make the rest of his trip quick and easy.

A few minutes later and he finally emerged from the woods, and was suddenly on the edge of a town.

Arthur had seen more of the realms than any other Willworker he knew—that was the problem. His fellows didn’t appreciate his erosion of Boston’s protective barriers, and the occasional fatality when something he called got loose.

Even still, he was momentarily stunned, staring openly at the town before him.

It wasn’t the turn-of-the-century construction that stunned him, though it certainly had its fair share of charm. It was the creatures.

They should’ve seemed alien, certainly as animal as he felt. They were horses, just as he’d known they would be. Like him, their bodies were only proximally similar to the true animal of Earth, with vibrant colors and strange marks on their flanks. Some went even further, with actual feathery wings on their backs, or horns emerging from their heads like the beasts that had been hunted to extinction long ago in his own world.

If the Cabal knew I’d discovered this, they might be more willing to forgive. When was the last time anyone had actual unicorn horn as a reagent?

He reached up reflexively with one leg, feeling his forehead. Only flat, furred flesh. Should I be relieved, or disappointed?

“Morning, sir!” said a horse, soft yellow with a bright red mane. She wore a strange harness on her back, with a clip for her basket. Judging by the tools inside, she was some kind of gardener. “How was Whitetail? Are the wildflowers blooming yet?”

He thought back, with the same keen memory he’d used to find his own reagents when preparing for complex spells. “Poppy and honeysuckle,” he answered reflexively. “Some sunflowers as well, if you’re far away from the trail.”

“Oh, really?” The horse grinned back at him, bright enough that his face grew hot. “That’s wonderful! Thanks!” She glanced briefly at his flank, expression turning to confusion. “I wish I didn’t have to admit this, but I don’t know your name. Are you new in Ponyville?”

He twisted to the side, following her eyes. There was a symbol there, just like the flower on her body. A single rune, the squared circle that was the basis of any Worldgate, the fur somehow silver instead of yellow.

Ponyville? You’re kidding me. “Yes,” he answered. “I’m, uh… well, you could say I’m looking for a fresh start. It looks like a charming little town.”

“Absolutely!” She reached out, and this time entirely human instinct told him what to do. He extended one of his stupid hooves, and touched hers to shake. “I’m Roseluck.”

“Gate,” he said, not skipping a beat. A wizard knew well how unwise it was to give away one’s real name. Though probably he should’ve picked something that sounded real…

“Well, Gate, you should stop by my stall in a few hours. If you’re right about those flowers, maybe we could do lunch together. Nothing’s tastier than crisp honeysuckle on a spring day like today.”

His face grew hotter, and he nodded without thinking. “I’ll do that.”

And just like that she was off, striding confidently into the woods, with her tail swaying behind her.

Oh god we’re both naked. And there are a dozen other animals all around us and most of them are naked too.

Arthur took a deep breath, banishing the wave of alien emotion. He’d been here less than an hour, and already he thought one of the natives was a solid 8.5 out of 10.

A few seconds of focused breathing, and he felt calm again. He picked a dirt street at random, and started walking.

Think, stupid. What do you know so far?

They spoke English, or something so similar that even physical gestures translated. They lived in houses, though he couldn’t see any sign of asphalt roads or electrical infrastructure. No satellite dishes or even telephone wires. Though if he listened, he could just about make out the rumble of heavy machinery that he guessed to be a train, passing not too far away.

Industrial, English-speaking, and maybe magical. I got lucky on this one. And sexy, but that was the stupid brain this body had come with. If only he had any of his power left, he could probably have suppressed those instincts.

The horses—ponies, maybe—were generally shorter than he was, though a few other males approached him in size. Much more importantly, they were also polite. He hadn’t made it a block before he got another dozen friendly greetings. He resisted conversation with anyone else, focused on his surroundings.

I need to see if they have an economy. His colleagues in the Cabal would have another round of hysterical laughter if they knew he’d found his way into a mundane job again. But if that meant staying alive, he’d take it.

There was one surefire way to find the place most likely to employ him: follow the traffic. There was unmistakably a flow of creatures towards one particular side of town. He joined the crowd, and soon saw what was attracting everyone’s attention.

A new building was going up, with a crowd of adorable construction workers with little helmets. There was no sign of heavy machinery here, and from what he could see their raw materials were arriving on horsedrawn carts.

But that wasn’t what had attracted the crowd. The builders seemed to know what they were doing, even if most of them would’ve looked at home in a petting zoo.

The crowd had come to gawk at something that shouldn’t be here. They were staring at him.

For several seconds he was one of them, mouth agape as his eyes struggled to comprehend something that couldn’t, shouldn’t be here.

He stood taller than every other creature, towering so high that Arthur could see him over the crowd. He wore a set of ill-fitting slacks and a sleeveless vest in dark fabric, that looked like it had been stitched together in a terrible hurry.

“Great job, Rafter,” he said, in Arthur’s voice. It sounded strangely deep to his ears, probably a product of the human’s size. “We’ll have a proper house put together in no time.”

“Sure thing, Arthur,” answered one of the ponies—one wearing a reflective vest and carrying a clipboard. Well—not carrying, the clipboard floated beside her in the air. Was her horn glowing, or was that Arthur’s imagination? Levitation in broad daylight? “Princess Twilight said we needed to make it exactly how you asked. You say something if our work doesn’t look right.”

The human version of him reached backward, checking the height of the front door. “No more stooping everywhere. I couldn’t be happier.”

Arthur made his way to the front of the crowd, no longer caring about being polite. He shifted and shoved his way through, until he’d made it to the little fence. It wasn’t even at chest level, but the tiny wooden “no trespassing” sign had kept back all the gawkers.

It did nothing to stop him now. He climbed over it, gritting his teeth as a hindleg caught, and he ripped out one of the stakes.

He heard creatures gasp behind him, horrified by such a blatant disregard for the rules.

“Pony, stop!” cried another construction worker. “This is a hard hat area! It’s not safe!”

He ignored him, marching right up towards his doppelganger.

Well, maybe not quite anymore. The human was twice his height, and quite a bit more suntanned than Arthur had ever been. How long had he been here?

“Arthur Harrison,” he said, glaring right up at him with naked envy. “How the Arcana are you still human?”

Before, the human had barely seemed to see him, even when he crossed into the construction site. But now he turned, eyes growing wide.

“How do you know that name?” he asked, dropping onto one knee. “Wait… those eyes…”

“I’m you, dumbass,” he countered, retreating from the human’s outstretched hand. “The you who didn’t want to get melted by acid, or fried in ultraviolet light, or… a thousand other awful deaths.”

“Is this pony bothering you?” Rafter asked, glaring at him now. “I should get him off the site before we do anything.”

But now the human Arthur was ignoring her too. “You sound just like…” He rose, grinning broadly. “You’re the me that went for the shapechange, aren’t you? Enough realms… you’d be out there somewhere.”

“Of course I did!” he roared, loud enough that Rafter retreated. For all her confidence, she didn’t seem accustomed to so much anger. “I like being alive! Did you really just… gamble your life away on a chance that the world you’d enter would be safe?”

Arthur grinned down at him, spreading his arms wide. “It worked, didn’t it? We’re both here, but only one of us is adorable.”

Comments

[Gavier]

ahdhwehdgshqhsbjwjdjajq
I love this lol

[Brass Moon]

A fun poke at one possible outcome in multiverse travel. I could see a seasoned dimension hopper instructing another on proper etiquette when one meets oneself.

[Condray]

He’d been here less than an hour, and already he thought one of the natives was a solid 8.5 out of 10.

Man's out here Speedrunning the brony pipeline

[FanOfMostEverything]

If anything can happen, it does. Just not necessarily to you. For a given definition of “you.” Delightful bit of multiversal silliness.