Chapter 44: Breaking the Storm
Calm lay over the Everfree Forest; surprising, considering what took place in it, and the dark cloud hung above it to mark it. And in its shadow, a portal of dark light was open, the Changeling Queen and the Father of Monsters stepped through, one more agitated than the other.
“Grogar, that was too close!” she complained.
“I don’t know what you’re complaining about, Queen of Changelings,” he bristled. “Now, where’s the rug rat?”
They looked about, and spotted markings on the ground nearby, looking as if somebody had pushed a heavy object on it, leaving a line of ravaged dirt. On its very end, a large pile of obsidian lay, motionless. Chrysalis approached it, and turned over the broken construct, revealing that his glowing eyes had gone off, while in his only hand he was still clutching a radiant gemstone.
“Is he…?” she asked, only to be resumed by the ram. “Unconscious? Yes. Fear’s a powerful motivator, but once pushed to the limit this is what it does to a mind. Now bring him along, we have a delivery to make.”
The Changeling Queen roared, and soon, a handful of changelings came crawling out of the cover of nearby fauna; they were watching and waiting this whole time. They raised the damaged Storm King and carried it after their queen.
“Seriously though, Grogar, you never told me what happened back there in the prison. How did you manage to overpower Princess Amore, when she had clearly put you in a bind?” she questioned the sorcerer.
“Princess Amore, I presume…?”
The grizzled ram stood immobilized in the illuminated room, near the seal under which the umbrum were trapped. Close by, a radiant figure of the first princess of the Crystal Empire stood with an adamant look on her face, barely regarding the sorcerer.
“No…” she calmly spoke after a long silence. “The real Princess Amore made me in her image. I am but a reflection of her radiance, the visual representation of enchantment that she had cast upon this place. A long time ago, she created and used the Crystal Heart to lock away the physical manifestation of horrid darkness that once plagued our world. She had made sure that nopony but her and her descendants would be able to find this room, protected by magic and spells of her own making. I exist as one final deterrent, to try and avert her offsprings from tampering with the prison, for there is no sense in releasing the physical manifestations of fear onto the world.”
The old ram understood now and a brief relief washed over him. The protective enchantment was triggered when the Crystal Heart touched the seal by accident, which meant that, if he had allowed the alicorn filly into the room after she led him to this place earlier, this would’ve happened, because the magic of the artifact was intrinsically connected to that of the first princess and those of her line.
“But it seems that her efforts have been overcome by you, outsider,” she resumed. “Regardless, the amount of work you had put into getting here will not pay off. The enchantment that is holding you cannot be broken without the magic that was used by its maker, and unless your companion, who you’ve just sent away, brings back one of her descendants to release you, you will be trapped here for all eternity.”
“I do not require her assistance, enchantment. I sent her away because I have a question, of which the answer was not meant for her ears.” The ram sighed in disappointment. “But alas… you are not Princess Amore. Which means the question that vexes me will not receive an answer I require…”
“And what exactly did you want to know, outsider?” the image of Princess Amore asked.
“There is no point, enchantment. But if you want me to humor you, to pretend as if you were real…”
The ram closed his eyes and his horns began to glow in dark light. Suddenly, one of the golden runes on his collar lit up, and another, and another, until all four were glowing. Dark energy began to rise from his artifacts until he was completely enveloped in it, making the light that was paralyzing him disappear. And as he finally stepped from his position, each time his hooves touched the floor, they left behind a patch of darkness that began to grow at an increased rate. And then he heard a noise. It sounded almost like a gasping sound, coming from the image of light; it appeared that the sentient spell that was left behind did not anticipate this would be possible.
“How did you manage to acquire the magic with which you forged the Crystal Heart? How did you manage to forge the seal for the umbrum, with those same runes that you inscribed your history and location to this place?” he questioned, the tone of his voice growing sinister with every passing moment. “I want to know, because that magic, the one with which you created your artifact… comes from the realm that I ALONE COMMAND, with the writing that I PERSONALLY CREATED. And you subverted their purpose, in order to protect love… The gall of you.”
The darkness that Grogar was leaving behind was slowly beginning to dim the light in the room, its radiance being consumed by it. The enchantment that acted as a deterrent was beginning to show erratic behavior as a result of its purpose being negated.
“Who are you? How are you able to control this power? How can you know what its real purpose is?” the image of the mare asked in an increasingly worrisome tone.
The ram chuckled. “So many questions, yet the knowledge would serve you little, enchantment. I will only tell you this,” the ram said, as he approached the image of Princess Amore, every step he made only accelerated the darkness that was consuming the light in the room. “A long time ago, a visitor from beyond led me to a place, one where one's dreams and thoughts can become a reality, one that I took for me alone. I had plans for it, GREAT plans, but unfortunately, somebody interrupted them and I disappeared… But that’s now come to an end; I’ve returned to the world once again, and I will accomplish what I intended so long ago, and correct this flawed world.”
The darkness has just about consumed the whole room, approaching the mare’s image. She wanted to run, but could not go anywhere as the light was nearly gone, except for the image alone. As it finally came to her, the disruption finally began to distort Princess Amore’s image, parts of her slowly dispersing into sparks.
“And if you were the real Princess Amore,” Grogar said as he finally stopped inches away from her, “then our conversation would conclude as such: Disappear in the solace, in hopes that I succeed, for I have seen the face of this world’s darkness, and what I’m doing in comparison… is merciful.”
And with those words, the image of the first ruler of the Crystal Empire exploded in sparks of light.
The darkness he had summoned disappeared, and once again the grizzled ram was left alone. And under the quiet that now lay over the hidden room, he groaned in frustration. He had hoped that he would hear some explanation for things that he had discovered in this city on the border of the Frozen North, but alas his curiosity would not be sated. Still, there was a task he had to accomplish. It’s been a while now since the Queen of Changelings had left; by now she should’ve negated the Crystal Heart’s magic. He turned back to the sealed lid on the floor. It was time. His horns glowed, and the moment they did, so did the runes that covered the said lid. The giant horsehead statues that were holding the handles began to turn, and as they did, they pulled open the edges of the lid, until it split open into four pieces. The seal had been unlocked! And then he heard it - screams, howls, shrieks; along with them, smoke was beginning to rise from the opening, numerous yellow eyes embedded upon the vague equine shapes revealed themselves, quickly filling up the room. The sorcerer acted immediately and opened multiple portals, leading to various places across the city. Seeing his task completed, he quickly ran through the portal where he sent the Changeling Queen and shut it closed.
“She came, she saw, and then… she perished,” was the only answer he had given to the Pillar of Hatred. “It didn’t take long before I realized it was just a magical imitation.”
Chrysalis sighed in relief. “That’s good to hear. Had she been real, I doubt you’d be able to beat her as easily.”
“Doubtful,” he brushed it off.
“Is that why you wanted to stay longer earlier? You wanted to test yourself against one of Amore's descendants just to prove a point?”
“You really take me for a musclebound idiot who has something to prove to somebody? Don’t belittle me, Queen of Changelings. Things that I have done… I did for a reason.”
“And what exactly was the reason for waiting until you clashed with Princess Cadence?!” she burst. “Nothing was achieved from that!”
A low cackle followed. No, not for the ram. The shadowy companion that had been with them the whole time finally made its presence known.
Doubt levitated before them. “Oh, but we have achieved something, Broodmother. Before the eyes of the entire empire, we have revealed to its residents, that even the Crystal Princess, a paragon virtue, of love, can be filled with anger and hatred. They know now. And that knowledge will make them doubt things they have believed before. Doubt is the chink in the armor of one's will. And when it breaks…” The manifestation cackled again.
A strong wind was blowing, ruffling the Storm King’s bushy head, caused by the very storm he had summoned, yet the means to control it were now out of his reach. He had become its victim and the only thing that was preventing him from being tossed about was the support beams under the castle's balcony. Now, however, he felt the winds let up, losing their strength. Whatever had happened, that silly pony may have stopped his plan, but at what cost? It was small consolation, but still…
“YAY! GROUP HUG!”
He heard the sound of squealing cheer above him. Why? After what had just happened nobody had any reason to celebrate unless… He gripped onto the structure’s support and proceeded to climb back to the balcony, up to its railings. When he finally reached the top, anger washed over him. The six ponies and a baby dragon were all there, including the horned and winged purple one! The storm failed to do its job! There they were, in a blissful embrace, completely oblivious to their surroundings. He grinned devilishly; they may have stopped him for only a moment, but now they were in a dangerous position, one that he could easily exploit. He reached into his pocket and pulled out an obsidian bomb. The moment it breaks open and its concentrated magical mist touches them, it’ll all be over; they’ll be reduced to statues in his menagerie of triumph, and HE will have the last laugh in the end. The satyr drew his arm back to gain momentum, and then quickly swung.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!”
He saw her - the broken unicorn! She lept over the gathered group, right in front of them, and the obsidian bomb crashed open on her, and she kept moving forward, dragging the magical mist with her even as her body was starting to turn into the black glistening rock. It reached him, and in panic he desperately flailed about to try and keep the petrification magic away, letting go of the balcony’s railings in the process, but it was already too late at that point anyway. The feeling in his body was leaving him from toes to head as he fell, his body going numb and still as he dropped further. The last thing he could see was Tempest Shadow’s already petrified body levitating over the balcony, but not falling with him. This is how it was going to end for him? This was how the story of the mighty Storm King would end?
The light dimmed from his sight, everything went dark, and then, as if he had just blinked, he saw a thunder cloud before him.
KRAKOOM!
He instinctively rose his arms, and a lightning bolt shot from above, disappearing a few moments upon contact. He didn’t feel a thing. He looked at his palm and discovered a familiar artifact embedded in it, coiled around his right arm – the Staff of Sacanas. What was it doing upon his body? Now that he became aware of it, what was wrong with him? His arms were black and glistening, hard as a rock, they moved to his command, but he didn’t feel them. He reached out to the rest of his person, feeling about; it was in the same state, even his head! He cried out in shock, yet his voice was silent. He just yelled that out loud, yet no sound came out of him! He began to thrash about, as panic started to overcome him: He couldn’t feel anything and he had no voice. What’s happened to him?!
“What’s he doing?”
“My guess? He’s reeling from the aftershock of experiencing his end.”
“Odd. I’d have thought he’d make more noise.”
“Why do you think I’ve not put his mouth on yet?”
Suddenly, he heard a burst of laughter after hearing two distinct voices talking. He stopped, his head turning in its direction. Two figures were standing nearby. One, a blue ram carrying a teal-colored stone bell around his neck, and the other… he couldn’t tell what it was; it looked irritably like a pony, but the rest of her was alien: Black coat with green spots adorning parts of her appendages, a crown that looked like a flowerpot, long elegant hair, and wings that belonged to an insect. She was the one laughing.
“HAHAHAHA! Oh, this is too rich! He has no mouth, and he must scream!”
She was laughing at him…? She was laughing at him! He suddenly felt a rush of anger bubbling up, and his rock body moved at his desire. He desired to HURT HER. He rose and began lumbering in the creature’s direction, raising his fist, and then… he had gone still. He couldn’t move, even though he wanted. What was more, he was levitating. The laughing creature went quiet, and that’s when he noticed the blue ram next to her, his horns glowing in dark light.
“Don’t do something you’re going to regret. Now, hold still.”
A nearby rock was enveloped by his magical aura and the sorcerer levitated it, launching it straight at his face, hitting the mark, before releasing him.
“WHAT THE HECK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”
He stopped. That was his voice just now, one that he couldn’t hear before. He could finally speak, not realizing that the rock that hit him square in the jaw… became his jaw, as he was lacking it earlier.
“Storm King, is it?” the black equine thing inquired. “I’m Chrysalis, the Queen of Changelings. And this is here is Grogar. We’ve gone through great lengths to awaken you, so it would be a good choice for you to show some appreciation, especially considering we’ll be cooperating on a lengthy-term.”
His attention fixed on them again. “You incompetent idiots!” was the first thing the satyr said. “You failed to dispel the petrification spell properly! Get me a professional so he can turn this rock back to smooth, silky fur!”
“Impossible… Scourgelord.”
That voice he heard just now didn’t come from the two before him. He saw a small shadowy form slithering past his sight, twisting right in front of his face until it became weaselly shaped with a pair of green eyes.
“Your petrified head is the sole reason your conscious has been preserved,” it said.
“STRIFE!” the Storm King yelled out loud and swung its massive hands at him, dispersing his vaporous form.
“Ugh, they always do that…” the voice groaned, as the wisp conjugated in front of his face. “Brute force will not help you, Scourgelord.”
“It’s the Storm King, wisp! And what do you mean that “my consciousness had been preserved”?” he inquired, preparing to strike again.
“Put those things down,” the shadowy thing urged him, “you’re not going to achieve anything, Scourgelord. And what I mean, is that you no longer have a body; it was destroyed after your failed attempt to acquire the absolute power of Equestria.”
“What do you mean, I no longer have a body?! WHAT ARE THESE THEN?!” he raged and swung at it, dispersing his form, only for it to quickly reassemble.
It let out a sighing noise. “You’ve been turned to stone and dropped from a great height – it was smashed to pieces; your head was the only piece of you that remained undamaged… mostly. That thing you call a body, it was fashioned and animated by the Shaper.” It pointed to the grizzled ram with its tail. “If the petrification spell was dispelled in the state you currently are… Well, let’s just say you wouldn’t last long-“
Doubt got interrupted, as the construct swung his arms, disrupting his form over and over again before he finally stopped. “Why…? If what you’re saying is true, why did you bring me back?!”
“Because your unique… experiences, are something that is of great value. And if you didn’t have a body to use… well, wouldn’t be of any use to us either if that had happened-“
Once more it got interrupted as he furiously flailed his arm about at it. “I’M NOT GONNA BE ANYONE’S PAWN! YOU THINK YOU CAN PLAY A TWISTED JOKE ON ME AND THEN EXPECT ME TO COOPERATE! I’M GONNA-!”
Suddenly, he went still, his body frozen on spot, enveloped by the aura of dark light, and it was obvious who the main perpetrator was. “Enough already,” the ram sighed. “If we let this “Pillar of Fear” act like an entitled rug rat we’re not going to get anywhere. Doubt, get to the point.”
It reformed and then flew closer to the Storm King’s face. “Let me make something perfectly clear, Scourgelord: You do not have a say in this matter. You have been brought back for a very specific task that only you can perform. However, if you are set with your claims and refuse to cooperate, I can just as easily order the Shaper to… unmake you.” It slithered around his head, whispering in his ears. “Is that something that you desire? Is your pride really so deep that you’d be willing to get unmade? Do you want to return to the eternal dark of nothingness?”
He was quiet. The answer was already clear in his mind. He didn’t want to go through what he remembered. To him, the experience was as fresh as if it had happened a few moments ago, and the fear of it was clear, even if his expression was unavailable. And the weaselly vapor knew.
“I believe he’s got the point, Shaper.” Doubt turned to Grogar. “Release him.”
The grizzled ram’s horns ceased glowing, and the obsidian construct dropped to the ground face first, making a grunting sound as he picked himself up, while the smoky creature flew to his side. “But do not be so full of doom and gloom, Scourgelord. Look at your position this way: You have been given a second chance. And with the object of power that you’ve wanted for so long now literally in your grasp, you will be unstoppable.”
The satyr looked at his right arm, the Staff of Sacans coiled around it and embedded in the palm. By all accounts, he should be feeling pain because of it yet he didn’t… in fact, he felt nothing and that was the issue that circled his mind. He could feel his thoughts, but nothing else, and it bothered him, it made him feel anger, so much that he just wanted to punch something. And the moment he thrust his arm forward, a lightning bolt shot out of the artifact; the same lighting that he had absorbed a few moments ago.
“Come, Scourgelord,” Doubt whispered in his ear. “Let those you spite taste your storm.”
It infuriated him all the more. This thing refused to use his proper name, he just wanted the shoot at him but he was well aware now that it wouldn’t do anything. But then he caught sight of a city nestled in the mountainside in the distance, rising over the forest. He knew it – Canterlot, the place where he ended up the way he was now… he just wanted to see it gone. He raised his arm in the sky and lightning shot into the clouds above. Suddenly, they began to broil, growing darker by the second and expanding at a rapid pace, spreading across the forest and to the pony city he had once invaded.
KRAKOOM!
Thunder roared from above, strong winds began to blow, and heavy rain started to fall. The storm had come out in full force.
“Well that’s no good,” the Storm King said in a disappointed tone. “I wanted to rain lightning directly on them…”
“Then I suppose you’ll just have to work on that, rug rat.”
Did he just hear the old ram equate him with a child? Anger bubbled up again, and he quickly turned, only to be frozen on the spot again by him.
“As I said, don’t try to do something you’ll regret, rug rat,” the grizzle sorcerer said. “You may possess the power over storms and lightning, but my power overshadows your own immeasurably. I’m the one who brought you back, and I can just as easily… undo the whole thing. Is that clear?”
He was silent again. His thoughts were clear, but his mouth had difficulty stating things as they were; his pride wouldn’t let him. Luckily, the old ram could already understand that he got the message and released him from his bind.
“Well, now that we got Mister Rock n’ Bolt over here, what do we do with him, Doubt?” Chrysalis inquired as the aforementioned creature picked itself back up.
“First, we go on the way, all of you,” the weaselly vapor commanded. “We have a lot of ground to cover.” It flew away, and the quadrupeds and the sole bipedal creature followed. “We’ve managed to acquire Hatred, but three more aspects elude us,” it answered. “Hence, we go north, to the frozen wastelands where Fear rests. But before that, we will first need to acquire pieces of it.”
“Pieces of it? Was it shattered?” Grogar questioned.
As they made their way, the satyr lagged behind the group as he was dragging his feet, but then, out of nowhere, a lightning bolt struck from above in front of him! The earth trembled, and the vibrations caused him to halt as he couldn’t stand properly anymore. Suddenly, the ground under his feet crumbled and he fell into the darkness below.
His consciousness awakened, instilled with fear. Darkness surrounded him, and no matter which way he ran, it felt like he wasn’t moving from the spot. Was this it? Was this what oblivion looked like? Felt like? Staring into nothingness for all eternity? In his desperation, he ever tried to claw his way out by grasping at the air, not that it did him any good. But, suddenly, he stopped. He noticed something was different about him. The Staff of Sacanas was no longer coiled around his right arm and embedded in his palm. Not only that, his arms were no longer made of obsidian, instead, his grey claws, separated by a pair of bracers, extended to his snow-white fur. He looked down himself, gasping when he saw the black color on his chest, only to realize it was actually his armor, covered by a pair of teal lightning bolts, facing each other to resemble a pair of eyes - his sigil. That’s when he collapsed when he realized what he was seeing. His lower half, the one that was destroyed by the Princess of Love, was there, also covered by white fur and none of his toes were missing. And that strange long white thing that was sticking out from between his legs… what this his tail? He grabbed it, staring at it for a moment… then opened his mouth and bit it.
“YOUCH!” he screamed in pain.
Pain… Did he just feel pain? By all accounts, he shouldn’t have felt anything and yet, he just did. Now that he thought about it… did he just open his mouth? He reached for his head, expecting to grab jagged spikes, and instead touched fur, running his fingers through it, all the way to his horns and up to their tips. Then he finally touched his face. He felt it, he felt everything. Something suddenly tingled his nerves. He couldn’t put it properly, but he felt a sudden rush of joy all over, so much so that he started to jump around, almost dancing, laughing like a maniac.
“I’m back! I’m finally back to normal!” he cheered.
“Are you though?”
He froze in an awkward position. He knew that voice. So many times, it had invaded his thoughts that there was no way he could forget it. His head turned to where it came from, into the empty darkness… and a pair of gargantuan yellow eyes opened, startling him.
“The reason you see yourself as you are right now is that we’re on the landscape of your mind. Out there, on the other hand, you are still as you were.”
“Well thanks for ruining it for me, Fear,” the satyr groaned. “Are you gonna treat me as you treat your kids?”
Suddenly, another pair of yellow eyes opened near the big ones, though these were much smaller. Followed by another set. And another. One by one more and more eyes opened on the darkened background, filling the empty void, but the Storm King was not feeling comfortable as they began surrounding him. They were in such high numbers that he couldn’t even concentrate on counting them. All of them had their sights directed at him.
“We, are Fear,” the multitude of voices sounded all around him. “We were always Fear. The only child here, Scourgelord, is you. For all the assistance you have offered, at the moment when it truly counted, you nearly failed! You allowed your pride, your desires, to nearly cost us everything!”
“I could’ve easily won!” he snapped back. “And considering that I accomplished what I was asked to do, the very least you could do is have the decency of calling me correctly! I’m the Storm King! And yet you all keep saying “Scourgelord this! Scourgelord that!”. I’m sick and tired of it! That word means NOTHING to me!”
Silence lingered for a while, making the satyr feel uneasy, as all the eyes were constantly looking at him as if they were judging.
“Out of the two things that you had said just now, Scourgelord, only one is correct,” the multitude of voices said.
“That I’m the Storm King?”
“NO!” the shrilling voice, amplified by number multiple numbers, sent a shockwave at the satyr, knocking him off balance. “That statement is completely false! You are not the Storm King! The only correct statement is that the title you were given doesn’t mean anything to you… but it does to those who did.”
He tried to pick himself up. “What are you talking about? You’re not making sense.”
“Have you forgotten how it all started, Scourgelord? Or do you need to be reminded of how the road led you here? Where you came from?”
And with those words, the darkness disappeared. The Storm King heard the sound of thunder from above. He saw storm clouds, and not a moment later a lightning bolt shot down from them. He dodged at the last moment, but he wouldn’t have the reprieve as another came down soon after; the sky rained bolts of lightning as if raindrops. He ran, before finally leaning against a structure and they stopped falling on him. That’s when he recognized the structure: It was a giant, naturally formed spike made of metal, with unique properties to deflect electricity. And there was only one place he knew such a thing could be found. He looked about better, noticing more giant iron spikes were sticking out of the ground, and creatures, its residents, were walking about, looking to seek shelter as they passed between them and the houses that were dug out inside the mountainous terrain. The satyr was more than familiar with these creatures… after all, they were his people. This was the Thundering Isle, the land where storms rained eternal – his home.
In the distant ocean, to the southwest of the mainland that connects to Equestria, there is a section of water that is plagued by unending thunderstorms. Ships that were unlucky to have sailed into the area were never seen again, their remains ending up on the shores of a lone island that stood in the middle of it. And it was upon this Thundering Isle that the satyrs made their home. They were primitive creatures, living on a mostly barren island, as with no sunlight, almost nothing could grow there, apart from bushes and roots. They lived in houses that were carved into hills and mountains, as it was the only protection against lightning rains, apart from naturally grown metallic spikes that were sticking out of the ground throughout the island. And whenever something from outside ended up being washed up on the shores, the satyrs would come running, marveling at strange objects and trinkets, sometimes even food that survived the storm. But among them, one satyr was of a different thought. Each time wrecks would come in, from the highest possible point of the island, he would look to the open sea, beyond the reach of the storms, wondering what the world had in store for them.
“You wanted to see more,” Fear said. “You wanted to have more, and you were determined to have it, but you could not do so on your own. You first had to bring your people under your command.”
It spoke the truth. He had to convince them to join him. After much struggle he had managed to find a way to turn chunks of the local lightning-resistant metal into armor, allowing him to move across the island without fear of getting struck by the lightning rain. When the other satyrs saw it, some of them quickly flocked to his side, aiming to also possess such protection, while the rest didn’t care. But that was more than enough. If he couldn’t bring his people under his rule by awe and desire, then he would force them. Little by little, his followers chipped away at all the iron spikes throughout the island, taking away all of its natural protection, and using it to build a fortress on a mountain peak that would overlook the whole land. Other satyrs did not appreciate what he’s done and marched upon his home, where he eagerly awaited them all. He offered them all a challenge: If they managed to beat him in combat, he would relent. They all willingly jumped at the chance… one they would regret. He wasn’t sure how much time it passed, but by the end of the day, under the thundering sky, he stood atop a mountain made from his beaten opponents.
“ANYONE ELSE WANT SOME?! HUUUUUUUUUUH?!” he screamed in the state of battle frenzy, while thunder echoed from above.
And at that moment, the full sum of his strife made itself manifest, tempered by the storms themselves, a small cloud grew into a creature that appeared before him.
“Who are you, creature?” he took notice of it.
The sentient cloud sprouted a pair of slender arms and bowed to the satyr. “I have been brought forth by the presence of struggle, of strife… YOUR Strife, My Lord. May I ask, what do your people call you?”
“I am…” he paused.
No. His old name simply no longer fit his position, he needed something better. He looked over his defeated enemies and saw them quivering in fear whenever the sound of thunder could be heard from above and they tried to desperately find shelter. The name that inspired fear… that’s what he wanted.
He removed his protective metal mask, and out of his pocket pulled out a little crown and nestled it on top of his head. “I am… the Storm King.”
With the residents of his island now fully subjugated, he started working on a plan to leave it. From the naval wreckages, they salvaged wood to build a functioning vessel, clad it in their lightning-resistant metal, and set sail across the treacherous waters. For the first time, the satyrs went beyond the border of their little world in which they had been locked away forever, thanks to the ambition of one. They eventually reached a small port town, inhabited by creatures that were alien to them, offering goods that were unknown yet appealing to them… for a price. The satyrs had no concept of exchange of values, and besides, why bother paying for something, when you can just take it? He ordered the entire town to be sacked and pillaged, by the end they even stole other vessels that were moored, using them to transport their loot back to the island. And so it continued for a while: The Storm King raided the coastal cities, bringing the booty back to the Thundering Isle. Over time though, things would get difficult as they had to travel further and further away to reach their next prey, not to mention that the rough waters surrounding the island made it difficult to traverse; there had to be a better way of traversing the seas and be able to travel a longer distance, even on land. His luck came, when, after raiding another coastal village, they happened to encounter a marvelous vessel that was owned by large sentient avian beings – it was a ship that flew in the air, held up by a giant inflated sack. He would make it his flagship, one worthy of a king. Over time, his air fleet grew, and with it, they traveled across the vast open lands, scourging towns and cities beyond counting.
Fear resumed. “Despite your proud declaration of your name, the word of those who have been subjected to your ravaging spread far and wide, they started to call you the scourge of the land… the Scourgelord. It was more than fitting the devastation you had wrought in your wake.”
It frustrated him. So much, that looting and pillaging and delivering his bounty back to his island simply weren’t enough anymore. He needed more. He needed to become the embodiment of his name, to be a King who IS the Storm. He wanted to harness the power of the storm itself to solidify his brand, as he always said, and for that, he needed something more, something that his home, nor the lands he had visited so far couldn’t provide – magic to control it. And so with his grand fleet, he traveled to the distant corners of the world, continuing to leave utter devastation in his wake, making sure that his vessels were constantly maintained. His persistence finally paid off after finally sacking Panthera, the capital of the feline nation of Abyssinia, and acquiring a magical trinket. And throughout, Strife was there; his right hand, his eyes, and ears, he was present at every turn, for wherever the Storm King went, he would follow willingly. And yet…
“Another country plundered of its riches,” he proudly said as he watched the burning capital disappear on the setting horizon. “They’re barely even a challenge anymore. And do you know why?” he addressed his right hand. “Because I have no friends. Friendship is a weakness. A liability. Friends distract you. Make you weak. Friends can betray you. Make you forget your goals. I have soldiers, commanders, workers – but no friends. Which means nobody will ask me to sacrifice my ambitions. My goals are my own.” And then he pointed at Strife. “Even you, my right-hand creature! Even you are not a friend. You are an agent of MY will. You serve me not out of some misguided sentimentality or imagined camaraderie, but because you know I will win in the end. I will be the most powerful creature in the world. And you want to be at my side.”
The sentient elemental was quiet, pondering for a moment. “… yes, My Lord. I am your servant.”
“At that moment, you have triggered an event that would lead you down the path where you have ended up. In your pride, you have engineered your own downfall,” Fear stated.
It was correct. That night, his most loyal servant turned on him. All the time it had spent in his company, feeding on the strife he had caused, his pride had finally rubbed off on him and made him turn. The one creature he had trusted most, blindsided him by having pirates launching a sneak attack on his flagship during the night. As an act of punishment, of apathy for his previously most devoted follower, he simply tossed him overboard into the barren wasted below. One after another, things led him to encounter a rather unique individual, a pony, a unicorn with a broken horn, one called Tempest. She was desperate, looking for any form of magic to fix her damaged horn so she could use magic again. A thought popped up in his mind: If those of her kind by nature possessed great magic, then perhaps he could use it to finally achieve his ultimate ambition. But he needed to get her on his side first. And so… he lied. It was not difficult convincing the little equine that he could fix her horn, and she was more than willing to talk.
“Conquer Equestria, and you’ll have enough magic to do whatever you want and fix my horn. Promise me,” the purple unicorn said.
“I promise… Commander Tempest.” And the bargain was struck.
As he continued to ravage towns and cities on his way, he gathered more technology in the process; smoke machines to obscure his fleet, making it look like a storm cloud, and small orbs, concentrated magic that will turn anyone into obsidian. He gave his new commander everything she needed, and she went forth. He waited sometime before he heard from Tempest Shadow again, or rather, he received a present from her – a wooden staff with a crystal stuck at the end of it. He wasn’t sure what to make of it, but after reassurance from her, he was convinced that the object will be of great use. He arrived at the Canterlot, the capital of Equestria, where his commander had gone before him to prepare for his arrival. His stormguard have already subjugated the local populace, but strangely she was absent. And so, he waited for her return, in the company of the three supposed “great powers”, as they stood petrified in the throne room. She finally returned with the fourth one, an alicorn or whatever she called them, and he used the Staff of Sacanas to drain them all completely.
“At that moment, pride… had sealed your fate,” Fear spoke.
He suddenly found himself standing outside the balcony of Canterlot’s castle. A gigantic storm he had summoned was raging all around him. He had the power source to control it firmly in his grasp, the rush of adrenalin was coursing through him.
“Now I TRULY am THE STORM KING! And the entire world will bow to my BA-BA-BA-BOOM, BABY!”
“Yes, yes, you are every bit as powerful as I promised, sire,” the unicorn mare beside him said. “Now, restore my horn, and I swear to use my magic to serve you.” She bowed.
There it was, the moment he knew would eventually come, to fulfill his end of the bargain. She was literally begging him. Why should he, now that he finally got what he always wanted? And besides, she was willing to betray her kind, it’s only fitting that she is replayed in kind.
“Who cares about your dinky little unicorn horn?” he laughed, pushing her to the side.
“But-?” She ran in front of him. “But we had an agreement-“
“GET WITH THE PROGRAM!” he yelled out loud. “I USED you. It’s kind of what I do.”
The jig was up. He fired a bolt of lightning at her from his staff, but she fought back, the blowback sending him flying against the wall, making him blackout for a moment. He awoke soon and then he saw the purple alicorn holding his former commander from being dragged into his storm, pulling her back to the ground. She had a chance to take his power away while he was indisposed and instead she went to help the one who betrayed her?
He got up and walked over to them. “Awww, isn’t that just so sweet…” He laughed, aiming his weapon at them. “Yeah… SEE YA!”
He laughed, it was so easy to beat them. Unfortunately, in his focus, a sound slipped past him that sounded as if somebody had fired a cannon, and before he could realize it, a pink object flew in from the corner of his eye, sending him flying and knocking him out.
“Go! You’ve got this, Twilight!”
“No… WE got this. Together.”
Under a pile of rubble, he could hear voices and he slowly recovered. He dug himself out and saw the setup: The Staff of Sacanas was stuck in the high window, going out of control, meanwhile, the ponies were desperately trying to reach it by forming a line.
“The staff belongs to me,” he said, beginning to climb the rubble, and the ponies noticed him
They were getting close. At the rate he was going he wouldn’t reach it in time and they inched ever closer. He will not allow his ambition to be denied!
“NO! THAT'S MY STAFF! MINE, MINE!!!” he yelled, as he lept for it.
The alicorn grabbed it first, and he crashed through the window, the strong storm pulling them both into itself. In vertigo, he luckily managed to grab hold of one of the support beams under the Canterlot balcony. He felt the winds slowly letting up, losing their strength. Whatever had happened, that silly pony may have stopped his plan, but at what cost? It was small consolation, but still… Suddenly, a thought came to mind: He was here before, not long ago – he KNEW how things would play out.
“YAY! GROUP HUG!”
Those voices. He knew them. Which meant if he went up now, things wouldn’t play out well for him. Perhaps it would be best to simply wait and… His body moved of its own volition, it started to climb! No! He’s trying to avoid what he knows will follow! Why was this happening?!
“You cannot escape your fate,” Fear spoke again. “What you see are your final memories, of the fate you have set for yourself. And you… cannot avert it.”
No! He didn’t want it to come to this! Panic was beginning to envelop his mind and he could do nothing but watch inside his own head, how he climbed to the top, seeing the ponies vulnerable and being ready to exploit the opening. Fear began to consume him, knowing that any moment now it was going to happen, as he pulled out an obsidian bomb and prepared himself to throw it.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOO!” the broken unicorn screamed, as she lept over the gathered group, dragging the bombs aftereffect with her to affect him.
He felt it! The feeling in his body left him as the petrification took over. He could do nothing but scream in pure terror as he fell, the light dimming from his sight, making everything turn dark, and then...
THUD!
He gasped. He realized quickly that he was back in the darkness once again; he just fell flat on his back and he could feel it. He reached all over the body with his arms, inspecting if any part of him had just fallen off.
He sighed in relief at the end. “Thank goodness, it wasn’t real-“
Suddenly, a pair of giant eyes opened again, followed by numerous smaller ones that lit up one after another, surrounding him, making him flinch from the shock.
“… and so… the Storm King met his end,” Fear concluded.
“What are you talking about?! I AM THE STORM KING-!”
“NO!” the shrilling voice echoed throughout the darkness, causing the satyr to cover in fear. “You are not the Storm King…! Not anymore. The Storm King that you recall… the one you remember being, was a different creature than what you are now.”
“Well, DUH!” he dismissed it. “Of course I’m different. I’m made of rock now!”
“No… we do not speak of physical matter,” it corrected him. “The Storm King you speak of never had a brush with oblivion, he never came face to face with the fragility of his own mortality, let alone realizing how precious every breathing moment of one’s life is… And as such, his entire existence was completely aimless. Like the very winds he claimed to have embodied, he drifted across the skies, from one kingdom to another, just to fill the very winds that propelled his sails forward, with the only ambition being “to be the Storm”, and in his blind hubris, he never seized the opportunities that presented themselves to him. He never committed to fully subjugate the hippogriffs when they fled into the underwater refuge, or took the reins of Abyssinia when the crown was willingly offered to him.” Her giant yellow pair of eyes accompanied by numerous smaller ones came into the arm's reach of the former lord of Thundering Isle. “All of this… because he prided himself on being a force of nature. And in the end, that was the very thing, because of which he met his end... a cruel end... for a cruel king.”
The silence was lingering for a long time, but the satyr knew at this point that nothing could be worse than having to experience that again. “Sooooo… what happens now?” he asked as he got back up.
“As far as we are concerned, you have fulfilled your obligations to us, and if you still cling to the notion that you are “the Storm King” … so be it.”
From the corner of his eye, he noticed something: One set of the small eyes shut closed, followed by another, and another. They were all slowly shutting, leaving the vacant darkness they were occupying earlier. He was beginning to have an unsettling feeling like something bad was about to happen…. And then he felt as if his foot had just fallen asleep. Yet the moment he looked at it, a gasp escaped him. The surrounding darkness enveloped his left foot, making it blend into the background. The same happened with his right foot afterward.
“Wha- what is this?! What’s happening?!” he freaked out.
“You have been awakened for the sole purpose of bringing us back, and as such… your services are no longer required.” Fear said, the multitude of its voice slowly growing smaller. “Just like your name, it is time for you to rest.”
There was that feeling again, the sense of fear washing all over him, as more and more yellow eyes faded away, so too was his body consumed by the darkness, disappearing into the ether. He didn’t want this! He doesn’t want to experience it again!
“Come, “Storm King”,” Fear said in finality, as only its largest pair of eyes were left and they slowly began to shut. “Close your eyes… and sleep…”
The rest of his body had nearly completely disappeared, moments away before his head was going to vanish as well, and he had to make it stop, pride be damned. “WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAIT!” he screamed on top of his lungs.
The large eyes stopped in place before fully closing, opening once again. “Is there something you want… “Storm King”?” the gentle voice asked.
“I DON’T WANT TO GO!” the satyr pleaded. “I don’t want to disappear into nothingness! I don’t want to experience oblivion again! I’ll do anything! I’ll GIVE ANYTHING!!!”
A gentle chuckle echoed all around the dark void, as the giant set of eyes approached his head. “There is nothing to give, “Storm King”. All you have to do… is ask. Say… what you truly desire. Say… that you want… to exist.”
“I WANNA EXIST I WANNA EXIST I WANNA EXIIIIIIIIIST!” he screamed.
The eyes moved as if they nodded in response. “So be it.”
All of a sudden, numerous tiny eyes burst open all around him once more, their yellow light stripping away the darkness to which the satyr had nearly disappeared. He was whole once more.
“If that is the case, then your task is not yet complete,” Fear once again spoke in the voice of multitudes. “You will be the pillar upon which our restoration continues, for three hearts beat where once were five. Step once again into the waking world, and be the herald of our terror.” The darkness surrounding him began to crumble on itself. “Awaken… SCOURGELORD.”
“Ah,” Chrysalis sighed. “Hive, sweet hive.”
The Queen of Changelings and the Father of Monsters finally emerged from the tunnel that connected the outside of the Everfree Forest to her new home, where the Turmoil’s husk stood. All the while, their new companion had been silent all the way.
“I’m surprised he still hasn’t awoken after this time,” Grogar commented. “Do we have to give him a prod?”
“No need,” Doubt commented as it flew to the dark tree. “The aspect will handle its pillar. It just needs to reconnect with the source first.” The changelings carrying the immovable Storm King stopped near the bank alongside their queen and dropped him to the ground. “Broodmother, do be so kind and loosen his grip on Fear, will you?”
She looked at the one hand the construct had left. In it, he was tightly clutching a purple pulsing gemstone. Being the only one who could use magic in her domain, she forced it open and the gem rolled into the magical pool beneath. After silence lingered for a moment, the bubbling sound came up, dark, vapor-like substance began to emerge from the lake.
“We sense it,” the harrowed voice of Hatred echoed. “Another piece. Fear… has returned to the fold. And now… its pillar must be measured.”
Dark matter rose above the ground level, over the tree’s height until it almost reached the ceiling of the cavern and then smashed into the inactive obsidian construct.
“We might as well have tea now,” Chrysalis said. “It might take a while before he gets out of that-“
Not a moment after saying that, the darkness retreated and disappeared back into the green waters. The Changeling Queen couldn’t believe it was already done; she recalled being stuck inside for hours… or did it just feel like she was? What stood before her now was something else. The construct was now standing up, fully repaired, its body chiseled out, making it look more detailed, rather than being made of basic shapes, and it resembled what a satyr was supposed to look like. On his chest, a pair of lightning bolts appeared, facing each other to make it look like a pair of eyes, and when they did, Storm King’s eyes lit up, emitting a yellow glow. He moved, not as slow and rigid as he was before; there was noticeable speed and flexibility in his movement as if he were alive.
“Well, Storm King? How do you fe-“ Chrysalis tried to inquire, only for him to raise a finger in her direction, as if saying to hold it.
He walked off to the side, to one of the cavern’s walls. He looked at his fist for a moment, then pulled back and threw a punch, smashing through the solid rock, leaving large cracks that spread around it.
“HEY!” the Pillar of Hatred snapped at him. “Stop wrecking my home!”
He didn’t answer. He pulled out his fist and observed it; it was left completely unscathed… and he didn’t feel the pain.
“Nothing…” he murmured, before turning and letting out a bellow. “I STILL FEEL NOTHING! Fear, you bamboozled me! You promised you’d turn me back to normal!”
Bubbling sound came from the pool once more, a black shadowy mass began to arise from it, the smoke twisted and turned as it grew in size, unspeakable sounds coming from within. A pair of giant scrawny arms sprouted from the ever-shifting form, finishing with a pair of giant yellow eyes opening, followed by another set of four underneath them.
“No, Scourgelord,” the multitude of voices spoke, “we promised to bring you back, and so we did. But we never promised to turn you back into a creature of flesh and blood. That is a power beyond our own. Unless… you’re saying that our terms are… NOT acceptable?”
Those last spoken words sounded almost like a threat, and the construct quickly complied. “Nope, nu-huh, everything’s honkey-dory, just reviewing the terms of service and all that!” he laughed nervously. “Where do we go next?”
A chuckle came from the weaselly vapor. “My, my… Our new Pillar seems more than eager to offer assistance. It seems the right choice was made.” It flew from the tree, down to the servants. “Very well, we will proceed immediately.”
“Broodmother,” the voice of Hatred commanded the Queen of Changelings, as it's dark form emerged from the pool, next to its other counterpart, “bring forth the Devourer.”
In confusion, she tilted her head, unsure what her benefactor was asking for.
“It means the centaur, Broodmother,” Doubt explained.
“Oh him… well say it plainly then,” she answered, then let out a shrilling cry, notifying her changelings.
“A centaur?” Grogar rose an eyebrow, curious, as he’s not seen one in a long while.
Soon, a group of changelings came out of one of the tunnels, carrying a statue pair, one a frail pegasus filly, and the other, a cringing withered centaur.
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Cool on seeing Storm King's backstory.
Ironically that might not be necessary.
All thanks to Discord's plan.
Through the POV of a Crystal Pony, the monster(Sombra) who tormented them who was supposed to be dead(thanks to the Crystal Heart) somehow came back to life without warning and easily took over. Their very rulers instantly failed.
While most likely word came by on how Spike was brainwashed like everyone else, their "savior" suffering that most likely instilled worse fear.
Something tells me the Crystal Ponies already had doubt sown in.
So Tirek is the Pillar of Gluttony. Glutton for power I mean. Also it makes sense The Storm King would agree to the name change. The name and existence of one creature called Storm King is dead, being reborn would make sense in having a new name.
11247315
Well, not exactly. Remember, both Chrysalis and Storm King have their own titles, but they're not related to Turmoil's aspect. One is Hatred and the other Fear, so what's one trait that Tirek is shown often displaying?
It's nice to see the character develop. At least now the Storm King doesn't seem like a "Cardboard character".
P.S. It was strange to re-watch the scene of Grogar and the holograms of Princess Amore. She doesn't show anything new.
P.P.S. Question out of curiosity. Is the "return of the evil clone of mean Twilight" planned in the story? I think it had a lot of "interesting scenario potential." In addition, in the canon, Chrysalis for some reason retained that "purple log" and seemed to have a semblance of sentimental feelings for him.
11247249
I would argue that Sombra's return is not seen as a failing on Cadence's part.
And I'm pretty sure after "Princess Spike", or even "Equastrian Games", it's clear that Spike is no paragon of virtue, something that Cadance at EVERY TURN was portrayed to be.
11247959
I mean, to the Crystal Ponies POV Sombra came back out of nowhere(the one Crystal Ponies fear the most) and easily took over while Cadance was powerless.
They would most likely have the uneasy feeling that they might never be rid of Sombra. As in he could come back from the dead at any time and easily take over while their rulers can't stop him. The very monster who tormented them.
The Crystal Ponies will never feel peace again inside, sure adding fuel to the doubt already.
As for Spike.
Screwed up Spike and traumatized the Crystal Ponies in a way all at once.
At least in Equestrian Games, he saved them from the ice cloud.
The point is he was worshipped as a hero not just becaused he saved them, he was a key factor on saving them from Sombra(the very one who tormented them)
If they were THAT appreciative of him stopping Sombra, it shows how much Sombra tormented and traumatized them. THAT bad.
The fact that the same "hero" who stopped Sombra ended up brainwashed(while it was up to the Mane 6 to stop Sombra) and taken out by Sombra screws up Spike's achievement and status. The knowledge that even their savior can not stop Sombra when he came back and fell to Sombra's power will worsen the Crystal Ponies' fear.
Thanks alot, Discord
Really, at first glance Discord's plan was awful.
But when you look at it deeper and with context, its so much worse when you realize the damage it had done and other stuff.
11247615
The chapter would've been way shorter without satyr world-building, but it had to be done.
Well, I had to put Grogar's flashback in a more fitting place, hoping some key points mentioned would be noticed, like the fact that Grogar is trying to keep things unknown to others he's working with, and the fact that what was said all of Amore's accomplishments were based on.
Well, considering Chrysalis is able to have babies again, I'd say the log replacements have outlived their usefulness (and all the inappropriate jokes that came with it XD).
As for "Bad Twilight"... well, nothing's worse than your own dark side, as both Luna and Rarity can testify.
11248043
nevertheless, I was interested in watching the history of the formation of the Storm King.
Well, the fact that Grogar is not going to be a pawn in anyone's game and has plans of his own I have noticed before. It seems to me that for a character with his strength, experience and wisdom, being the six of some ancient power is somehow humiliating. :)
at least Nightmare Moon acted, albeit radically, but everything was in the interests of Luna herself and for her well-being. And given that in the alternative universe, the "loyalty element" itself decided to serve her, then we can assume that Nightmare Moon is not as bad as everyone thinks about it.
and the evil opposite of Twilight can completely destroy everything she has built :)
P.S. The most dangerous villain is the villain who thinks he is a hero.