Legends of the Shady Trough

by _No_One_Remains_

Refuge in the Storm

In the time it took me to retrieve the customary beverage for the next pony in the spotlight, he had managed to conjure a few dozen sticks of what I assumed were his homemade pyrotechnics. I watched Monochrome hastily hide his matchbox as I approached and perhaps too appropriately threw the mug of beer at his head. I already knew that he planned to use them as props, and that sure as hell wasn’t about to happen on my watch! Never again!

For a dimwitted pyrotechnic, he was quite agile. He ducked under the shattering glass and scoffed, “Aw c’mon Barman! I can’t tell a story without my lightshow!”

“Then don’t tell a damn story!” It took me a few minutes to realize what I’d just done, and I turned tail to retrieve the mop and broom to clean up the alcohol and glass shards. Looking back, I was pretty violent to that stallion.

But then again, he blew up half my bar! Of course I was violent to him!

He groaned weakly, “But it’s a competition, Barman! Just this once?”

I didn’t even have to respond. “No!” erupted from the crowd of Shady Trough patrons. I guess they all knew the horrors that the incompetent mule could bring with his fire.

I noticed Miss Violet nearly flinch violently out of her seat, the sudden explosion of sound drowning out even the constant thunder outside. As I stomped back onto the stage with a towel and broom in hoof, Monochrome hesitantly darted away. I couldn’t tell if he was upset because I wouldn’t let him burn my whole bar down, or if he was sad he couldn’t compete in the contest.

Conveniently, Conrideas laughed, “So, Barman, does that mean the pyro stallion forfeits the contest? As in, he loses?”

Lavender Wave giggled, “I’d be okay with that, actually! It would give the rest of us a nice big room for error!” She sent the stallion in question a sly look, obviously not even joking.

I could tell the pyro’s charcoal coat was starting to crawl as he groaned, “No way, you guys! That’s not even fair! It’s not my fault Barman won’t let me go!” He pounded a hoof on his table and lowered his gaze to the floor.

“Actually, comrade,” Sir Ox joined in, “if it weren’t for your firework fetish, I’m sure he’d have no problem letting you go!” The entire crowd burst into laughter at that, punctuated by the Minotaur’s request for more beer.

I was just mopping up the remainder of the alcohol on stage when Electric Slide chimed in, “I say let the poor bastard light his vice! After all, that means more bits for me, don’t it?” He plopped a friendly hoof onto the gloomy disaster’s back. I couldn’t tell if he was being serious or just being nice to the dispirited stallion.

The cheery atmosphere was lost with a particularly close crack of lightning and an ear-wrenching roar of thunder. I found myself hard pressed to stand up as the storm grew ever stronger right outside my door. The roar sent the wall decorations and bottles rumbling in place, threatening to knock everything around. It slowly faded away, punctuating its existence with a sudden pop of electricity. The whole bar went pitch black in the absence of power.

I heard several annoyed groans and one or two frightened shrieks come from my customers. Gritting my teeth, I stumbled toward where I’d last seen Monochrome and groaned, “Matches, now!”

“Y-yes sir!” In seconds, the box of fire sticks was in my hoof, and I lit one against the table I was leaning against.

With another bright crack of lightning, more of the customers began to panic. I’m sure the alcohol in some of them didn’t help, but that wasn’t my problem. With only the faint light of the match and the mixed roars of fear from my guests, it was hard to tell which ones were freaking out. I let the verbal diarrhea continue for a few seconds before deciding I’d had enough.

“Shut the hell up!” I exploded, louder than I think any of them had ever heard me before. The entire bar went silent save for the rain and thunder, and I could feel all of their eyes lock on to me in the faint match light. I sighed, “We’ve got a generator in the basement, so calm the hell down. Caitiff, if you would?” I held the match out toward my waitress’s seat only to find it empty.

Her voice called from the other side of the bar, “Way ahead of ya, Boss.” I heard the oak door of the generator room close with a very distinct thud less than a second later.

Conrideas scoffed in disbelief, “How’d she get over there without making any noise?” After a silent pause he laughed, “Must be a witch!”

A few chuckles rang out from other patrons before the light popped back to life. The buzz of electricity returned, and I heard a collective sigh of relief spread throughout the bar. I’m almost certain I heard the Changeling stranger upstairs let out a breath, but that could’ve been my imagination.

Another burst of lightning struck down close, sending light through the windows that would’ve temporarily blinded anyone looking out them. Caitiff returned from the basement carrying a dust-covered bottle of wine in her muzzle. She smiled awkwardly at me as she approached the crowd. Just as she passed by the staircase, another loud roar of thunder shook the bar. With a loud cracking sound, the front door splintered into pieces and the figure of a pony went flying through in an uncomfortable ball.

I heard the two unfortunate creatures groan angrily as the bottle shattered, vintage wine pouring all over my newly-treated floors! The offending pony scrambled to its hooves and stumbled to a nearby stool, taking the time to look back at all of us. Caitiff coughed in pain as she lifted herself from the ground. I could see a wound just underneath her throat, presumably where she’d fallen on the bottle.

She sent the newcomer an angry glare, and I noticed Scourge shift suddenly in her seat. The newcomer coughed violently before turning toward its unintentional cushion. With an exotic accent that only made me flinch, she sighed, “Forgive my intrusion on your festivities. The storm outside gave me little say in the matter. The wind is furious tonight.” She turned back toward the destroyed door and the rain pouring in from outside.

The new guest pulled a white hood from her head, and I immediately knew she was a zebra. The accent was too reminiscent of Lamia’s to not be one. You know, minus the rhyming thing. Anyway, she looked directly at me, either sensing I was the owner or assuming I was the most mature of the bunch. Her mane shimmered in the light. Like Lamia, her mane was striped with two colors. Unlike the witch, this zebra’s mane replaced the white with a mysterious gold color.

She had the traditional black and white coat, however, and her jewelry and clothing looked to be about average for the zebras I’d met before. There were a few gold bangles on one arm and an emerald bracelet on the other. But…her eyes sent shivers up my spine. They were…pure white. No irises or pupils…just white orbs in her skull.

I was about to ask her name when a large lump in her cloak started to shift around awkwardly. The rest of the patrons noticed it move and focused solely on it. A muffled voice groaned, “What’s all the ruckus Voo, I’m trying to sleep!” With that, the cloak flew over the zebra’s head and revealed a small white rabbit sitting lazily on her back.

The zebra giggled, “It is nothing, Lucky. A slight encounter with nature is all.” With an obvious blush on her cheeks, the mare removed the cloak entirely and turned back toward us. “I’m sorry for all the trouble, but the storm is impossible to weather. And your door is…”

Caitiff snapped, “Ruined, thanks to you! I don’t care how strong the storm is, how the hell did it throw you through a solid oak door?!” I could almost see steam rising from the vampire’s ears.

The rabbit leaped from the zebra’s back and landed just in front of the angry patron. With a gentle voice it whined, “Calm down, lady! Voo didn’t mean any trouble! We’ll fix the door if it’s that much of a problem…”

Most of us fell back from our chairs at the sight of the talking animal. If I’d been drunk, I would’ve laughed my plot off, but at the moment I was completely frightened. Never once in all my years of bartending had I ever met a talking animal!

Silence followed our disturbed groans. The bunny stared up at the ‘mean old vampire lady’ as Conrideas had mumbled, its lower lip visibly quivering in desperation. I had no clue what to make of the weird creature, but it was certainly cute. Caitiff stared back, trying to read the animal’s expression.

As the silence stretched on, the zebra scoffed, “While it seems we have a stalemate of stares, I believe I can repair your door.” Our attentions shifted to her as she pulled a small bottle from her satchel. Surprisingly enough, it was intact and filled with a neon green liquid. She popped a cork from the bottle with her teeth before picking up the door’s handle in her free hoof.

She let a single drop of the liquid land on the handle. Suddenly, all of the tiny pieces of the door, even the splinters that had lodged in the zebra, let out a neon glow before gathering themselves in a ball in the threshold. With a bright flash of light and loud crack of wood, the door was back in place, almost as if it had never left. The zebra then sidestepped around the staring pair and let a small drop fall on the largest shard of wine-bottle-glass. The bottle did the same as the door, except even the spilled wine gathered back inside.

I was speechless. Literally speechless. I tried to talk, but words wouldn’t form.

Finally the staring contest ended with Caitiff’s gentle proclamation, “Aww, it’s too cute! I can’t stay angry at this thing!” She scooped the bunny up in her hooves and cradled it. For the first time in a long while, she was acting like a girl. Scourge, unfazed by any of the zebra’s potion magic, finally settled back into place at seeing Caitiff happy.

“So, who are you fellas and what brings ya to our neck of nowhere?” The vampire set the rabbit back on top of the zebra, not even acknowledging the restored door or wine bottle.

The zebra chuckled, “My name is Voodoo, and this is Lucky. We met many years ago in the forests of my homeland, and I’ve been protecting her ever since. We’re simply travelling to see the scenery.” She reclaimed her cloak and wrapped the bunny up tightly and set her down on a stool.

“Yep! And Voo’s an awesome magician! Her potions can do anything!” Lucky bounced around in the cloak, nearly falling from the stool several times.

Plot Twist scoffed, “Can they tell stories?”

Most of us sent him angry glares, noting how rude it was to bring up our competition in the face of unaware guests. Voodoo surprised me particularly when she giggled, “No, I’m afraid not. However, I imagine the tales I could tell would be too much for you ponies to handle.”

“Wanna join our game?” Lavender Wave giggled, wanting some more competition.

Voodoo and Lucky shared contemplative expressions. The latter asked, “Are there bits involved?”

Caitiff chimed in, “No, but there are nuggets, booze, and food!”

The two newcomers shouted in unison, “What’s the game about?”

“Telling stories,” I groaned, knowing I’d only have more to listen to…

Without hesitation, the bunny leaped on top of the zebra’s head and cheered, “We’re in!”

“Be prepared to be awed, ponies. My tales will unsettle your beliefs and set your mind to work!” After another roar of thunder faded away, Voodoo continued, “Besides, it’s better than being out there tonight…”

I hopped up on stage and laughed, despite my actual feelings, “So, who’s ready to tell us something juicy! I’ve heard legends and histories, but we haven’t heard anything juicy yet!” I took my seat after my announcement was over.

Miss Violet asked, “What kind of ‘juicy’ are you asking for, dear?”

“I dunno,” I shrugged. “Something embarrassing. Maybe some romance or clop.”

Everyone turned to me, caught off guard by my suggestion. Caitiff whistled, “Wow Barman, I totally didn’t know you went for that kinda stuff.” She giggled childishly as she took her seat beside me.

I scoffed, “Might as well mix things up. Hell, if the story’s too uncomfortable, maybe somepony will drop out and lighten my load!” I looked back up at the empty stage, waiting for someone to offer to tell the tale.

Sir Ox Berry cheered, “I agree! We need something juicy! Bonus points to anyone that delivers, whether it’s the best or not!” He slammed his hand on the table, his words starting to slur.

Lavender protested, “I don’t think we need anything like that, Sir Ox. I mean, this is a civilized--”

“If you all are a bunch of wimps, then by all means I’ll do it!”

Before I could blink, the offering competitor was sitting in the chair on stage, waiting for us to pay attention. I immediately regretted the request, because the competitor didn’t seem like the type for this kind of tale… But…shit…

Comments

[FlimFlamBros.]

Sweet! nice to see this update!

[codejunkie]

mtfca.com/discus/messages/331880/359582.jpg

[Grimstalker]

Aww! I had no idea that Monochrome was so hated. Oh well! Nice update to this story!

[Chaodiurn]

There's no true immortality, but I am really glad that this story is close to it.
But pray tell, why did you leave us with a cliffhanger at this update-rate? No fair!

[_No_One_Remains_]

2765945 Because troll.

[Out of Place]

Its awesome to see an update!

One problem I noticed though. You have Wanderer talking when he's said to be a mute in the second chapter. Just a heads up.

[_No_One_Remains_]

2769291 Hmm...
I was listening to a show at the time of writing this, so I probably got some wires crossed.
Thanks for letting me know! That was supposed to be Conrideas!