Stereotypical Side Stories

by JinxTJL

The Enthralling Story Of Light Flow The Very Cool And Accomplished Necromancer

There once was a stallion who none knew, yet was known as Light Flow all the same. He was dark, brooding, mysterious beyond unbelieving beliefs, and held an impeccable sense of intrigue around him at all times. He was enthralling in ways nopony thought was possible outside of dramatic readings of macabre prose, and he showed in it his every action.

His past was veiled in a shroud hidden by a curtain of deceit constructed from the very fabric of trickery. Where he went, misery sprung from the weeping hearts of the masses left behind in his wake, yet none would live to spread tales of said misery or whether anypony's heart was actually weeping. It was hearsay, though not sprung from lips. Rumors about the stallion simply cropped up, as though the very soil of society itself was growing the fetid ideals with which the stallion held about himself, mysteriously.

As Light Flow was such a dark, brooding, mysterious pony for whom the word mysterious was itself created to describe him by those he left behind, he very often found himself the subject of nopony's scrutiny, which was exactly how he liked it. He so often despised the company of other ponies in any form that it bordered on a persisting, debilitating complex; though, if there actually were such a complex, it would only be prescribed to ponies as notable and intrinsically incredible as Light Flow, which is just about impossible.

He was a unicorn, and his horn was massive. Veritable inches beyond any recorded horn length throughout history, as though his stunningly good looks and impeccable fashion sense weren't enough to distinguish him amidst the faceless masses of regular, workaday ponies. His horn was actually so large, it had to be classified as a deadly weapon, and he was disallowed from bringing it aboard any moving vehicle or into crowded areas.

It was a good thing that Light Flow, the dark, brooding, mysterious, intriguing pony who constantly draped himself in the most chilling robes of the umbral shadows themselves also happened to be an incorrigible rogue. He followed no rules, and stayed out as late as he wanted on any day of the week, regardless of whether or not it happened to be a school day. He lived to flaunt rules like that.

There was somehow even more to this nighttime devil for whom the concept of a devil was created by ponies he left alive, which he hardly ever did, and certainly not without horribly maiming them first. Not only was he a criminal of the highest degree simply for his status as the most dangerous creature alive, he also held complete control over the very ebb of the ephemeral forces of the concepts of the ideals of life and death themselves, mysteriously.

Yes, it was true that Light Flow was a Necromancer. The highest caliber of such, and without peer in this or any era. He was actually so incredible at Necromancy, he discovered that every single other pony's research into the art was fundamentally wrong, and that they'd all made a logical error on the first page of their thesis.

That was the sort of mistake that Light Flow, the incredibly intelligent foal stallion who knew more words than anypony else on the planet, deridingly scoffed at. He was perspicacious, and incredibly pernicious to those who were vacuous.

As it was that Light Flow was so smart and wise and intelligent that he redefined the lost art of Necromancy and brought it into the public eye which subsequently began to bleed from their retinas because of the sheer fear they felt, he happened to receive much prestige.

The bad kind of prestige, which was exactly the kind of prestige he It was notoriety that Light Flow achieved, because he was notoriously bad, and cool, and ponies feared him for the very illegal things he so often did.

Light Flow, the criminal mastermind, sought to create his own empire in the ashes left behind of Equestria's sad, pathetic dust. He wanted to topple the bourgeoise elite and bury them alive because that was a terrible way to die, and they deserved it. Yes, he wanted to see everypony on the top of the government dead in a hole, or maybe burned to death, because that was also a pretty terrible way to die.

So, he set into motion the terrible deeds which he would perform without even a single thought as to whether it was morally objectionable, because he was dark and brooding and didn't care about morals. With his army of the dead and long-since damned, he staged a full-frontal attack on Canterlot itself!

The bodies piled high that day, and the sweet smell of blood was ripe in the air as the mud ran slick in the absence of rain. For each faceless peon wearing the gold standard that fell, Light Flow gained another soldier for himself as he simply raised their mindless corpse, forcing them back against their former comrades as said former comrades' eyes widened in shock, fear, and disgust. Then they died.

The walls of the great city sitting on the Canterlo Canter mountain were razed in an hour, leaving the vanguard obliterated and the citizens behind them defenseless. Light spared none, for each innocent murdered in cold, rankling blood would only gain him more allies. His ability to raise the corpses of the dead ensured he would never run out of soldiers for his own cause, as well as being incredibly cool.

He marched on the palace, the guards falling and crashing to the ground like pathetic waves from a weak storm battering against the sandbags that were Light's forces. Not long after, the prize of Light's conquest appeared.

Princess Sol Celestia, clad in full golden armor and wielding a massive greatsword spear mace shaped like the sun two interlocking swords sigilwork pistol conveniently powerful magical artifact weapon.

She was nothing but a dull gleam next to the total encompassing darkness that was Light Flow, and his very presence could and would blot out the sun itself. The stallion known legendarily as The Walking Shadow wielded a massive scythe constructed completely from the spines of those he'd murdered in cold blood, because the spine was one of the strongest and most flexible bones in the body.

With the Princess' weapon completely outclassed by the sheer magnificent concept that was Light Flow's incredible bone scythe, the two of them clashed. Over and over again did they clash, and each and every time was their clash so ground-shaking and star-shatteringly intense that it could only ever be described by the intensity of the word clash.

The lands turned to slagged sand from the heat of Celestia's invocation of the sun's fury, though never did it even graze Light Flow, who could move at the speed of a shadow. For never did the sun touch a shadow, only trailing behind as it fled to safety. So it was with their battle, and with that fact realized, there could only ever be one logical victor.

It was Light Flow, standing over the former Princess's cold, dead body, who was the inevitable and completely obvious victor. He sneered down at her unmoving corpse with contempt, and ridicule, and hatred. His sneer was, itself, so putrid and vile that her closed, dead eyes began to miraculously spring tears, as though She feared him even from beyond the grave. As she should have.

The Princess was dead, and Light Flow had won. He would forever be known as the shadow who had eclipsed the sun. The dead rose to walk among the living, until the living were no more. None would ever stand up against Light Flow, and in his immortality, he would find eternal joy in smothering the joy of others.

Light Flow was happy.

And Light Flow, the eleven year old colt holding a pencil in the grip of his magic, was just as happy.

He let himself slump back into his cool, black chair with a sigh, as the light around the floating pencil flickered and dropped the implement to his black desk.

His head twinged from the drawn-out exertion of writing, and he only then realized it'd been hours. He groaned in weariness as he rested a hoof on his head, and took that moment to lean forward to inspect the paper in front of him.

His eyes scanned over the words- the saga he'd written. Each and every paragraph dripping with flair and intrigue, just how he liked it. There were a few places in the sea of even scrabbles where he'd crossed words out, leaving large black lines that looked ugly next to his writings, but it was probably fine to leave it as-is.

Though, he made a mental note to himself to try and find out whether Princess Celestia had historically wielded any specific weapon. He'd become a bit uncertain at that part.

Whatever, it barely impacted the story, so it didn't matter. Not like anypony would ever see. He loved the things he wrote, but if he ever showed them to anypony, they'd probably be too stupid to realize just how well-written it was. Their tiny brains just couldn't comprehend his greatness!

He was such an incredible writer.

Author's Note:

a p r i l f o o l s '

i wrote this in, like, an hour

Comments

[Simplyreader]

Thanks for the chapter.
Young Light Flow is so cute planning world domination.

[Direct Access]

He is indeed an incredible writer.
However, I don't buy that he wrote it as a foal. There is just too many complex rare words. I literally learned 20 new words today.

Anyway, if that's what happens when you let go, than if your ever get drunk, I bet you will spring up into an ye old English, of Shakespearian variety.

[Rawislon03]

Dude talks shit as a foal but the moment he could potentially put it into practice he tosses himself out of a window. 0/10 not between 20,000 to 50,000 words.

[Rawislon03]

A+ for the sheer awesomeness tho