Chapter 23 — Ice
Chapter 23: Ice
“It is the fool who puts faith in false saviors.”
Frost.
The cold wind nipped at me like a playful lover who’s suddenly turned to cannibalism. Snow swept by at an oblique, almost forty-five degree angle as I stared ahead at the narrow stone bridge, mayhap wide enough for three ponies shoulder-to-shoulder. It had been built straight over a steep gorge, one side ending here, the other side running straight into the ancient stone of the mountain before me, where a thick-looking set of double wooden doors stood.
“Are you not cold, Sedhoas?” the crystal stallion behind me asked. I turned my head to look at him and all the clothes he was bundled up in. Past him and down the mountain road, I could make out the Crystal City, Côrint, and the megalithic crystal tower at its heart. The shadows of one of the many evergreen-like trees that ruled this mountain fell upon him as he looked up at me.
I looked at my leather duster, hat, and standard attire therebeneath. “No, not so much,” I chuckled. “Trust me, where I’m from, you learn to deal with the murderous cold. Especially after der langen Nacht des Herzenstrostes. When there’s so much ash, smoke, and dark magic in the air that it blocks out the sky for three whole years, you, like me, learn to deal with the cold rather well.”
“If you say, Sedhoas,” he replied, addressing me by what I had assumed was their version of mister. For all I knew, though, it could have been the word to describe a sniveling, slimy set of diseased female genitals leaking a strange off-white ooze. On another note, I’d learned that dh made a sound like the th in the Equestrian ‘the’, whereas a crystal th went like the th in ‘thin’. It was probably just me, but that kind of thing was neat.
“But we are here,” he concluded.
“Hmm,” I hummed, looking out across the bridge and the gorge it spanned, at the white stone and the icy river running far below. “Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to kill a bunch of ponies, skin them, and then turn their skin into a giant blanket that I could attach to myself and use to slow my fall from a great height.” I turned to him. “But first, I need to find out how long it takes for a pony to—”
“Nope,” he said, and turned around, proceeding down the icy path down the mountain.
“Dammit,” I spat. “They’re learning.” The door at the other end of the narrow, gray-brick bridge became again the center of my attention. It had only been hours since I killed that giant stallion in that arena, and no sooner had I cleaned myself off and put my testicles on ice than crystal guards in black armor came and found me, telling me that I was wanted somewhere.
And so here was that somewhere. This high up was apparently above the snowline, and I think I saw some kind of carnivorous deer eating what looked like a cat-like walrus down in the gorge below, but here I was nevertheless. Somehow, I ended up wondering if it was possible to stick rubber bands up a mare’s nipples in case I needed to defend myself against a mare with six giant, overinflated teats like a dog with terrible teat tumors. Because I’d seen such teat tumors before, and they bounced in a horrifically horrible, horribly hypnotic way.
So as the wind battered me, I ended up wondering if my nipples had holes in them like a mare’s did. The only thing that stopped me there from taking my shirt off and poking at my nipples with a syringe was the distant cry of some kind of animal that didn’t sound like it’d make a good charades partner. That, and a three-eyed raven landing on the bridge’s stone railing.
“Oh, no,” I groaned. “You’re a bout of unnecessary symbolism, aren’t you?”
The raven just looked at me. Bits of snow hit it, making the bird look to be almost a giant pile of salt and pepper. It watched me as I crossed the narrow bridge and listened to the howl of the wind and the sound of a distant waterfall. I knocked on the wooden doors, and when I got no answer, I tried for the handles. They opened, the raven flew off, and I stepped into the mountain.
Closing the door behind me, I looked out at the foyer, brightly lit by more of those glowing crystals that left weird blotchy spots in my eyes if I looked at them for too long. Carved from the rock itself by masterful hooves, this place looked both ancient and new. It was semi-circular with a dome roof, the white stone of the walls absolutely covered with paintings of ponies engaged in countless deeds.
The centerpiece of the room, before the foyer gave way to a large stone staircase lined by green plants, was a statue of a mare in robes. Her eyes were blue glowing crystals that seemed to glare at me as she held a mighty staff in one hoof. I cocked a brow as I noticed her snake-like tail coming out from her robes and coiling around her leg.
I trotted past the statue and up the stairs, noticing a weird scent of lavender in the air. The room beyond the top of the stairs made me pause. In this circular room with numerous door scattered about there was a very circular little lake, its edges made of some kind of tan tiling: at center of the little lake was a tiny island upon which stood a white tree with golden leaves. Above the tree was a hole in the cave’s ceiling where sunlight poured in from. Steam rising off the water must have kept this place free from snow, judging by how warm the room was, but that hole had to a be a titanic structural flaw. I could just imagine a pile of leopards getting in through that hole and murdering everyone in here in a hilariously unseen fashion that just made me want to become a leopard breeder solely to cause it.
Around the rest of the rotunda, it looked partly like city. The bits of rose beds by stairs leading up to a balcony-like areas surrounded the rotunda reminded me of little gardens before second-story apartments, and the paneless windows gave this place an abandoned feel, like some ancient horror was about to jump out of the shadows, denounce me for “violating its resting place”, and then tickling me until I pissed myself to death. Because there wasn’t much worse it could do it me after I nearly had my balls ripped out.
But above all of that, the thing that really held my attention was the white mare with the raven-black mane, who was standing over in a part of the room that looked to be some sort of statue. She was dressed as what looked to me to be some sort of worker. The mare was swinging a pickaxe at the statue as she sang in a decidedly cheery, bubbly voice:
“I’ve been working on the railroad
All the pointless day.
I’ve been working on the railroad
While my life gets pissed away.”
“Ma’am?” I asked, walking up to her.
She shrieked, nearly leapt ten feet into the air, and fell to the ground in a position that reminded me of shrimp. I missed shrimp; I could so go for some fried shrimp, sauteed in soy sauce, even if soy products were proven to lower sperm count. What with the testicular beating I got, odds were that I was sterile anyhow.
The mare jumped up, shoving me away with her forehooves. “Don’t sneak up on me like that! There weren’t supposed to be any…” She trailing off, looking me up and down. “Equestrian. You’re an Equestrian.”
I glanced at the mostly ruined pile of rocks that had once been most of a statue. “No, Teutscher. I’m a Teutscher. We’re much cooler than Equestrians.”
She rubbed sweat and bits of chalky stone from her cheek. “Chêngrêlangõ,” she muttered. “You’re that guy, ñar? The Sedhoas who defeated the Lord Marshal in the arena—” her mouth twisted into a smile “—and he who is the the proven greatest champion there is?!”
As she looked at with gleams in her eyes, I heard a flapping sound. The three-eyed raven flew in through the hole in the ceiling, circled the tree, then dove towards me. I shouted something inaudible as I rolled out of my the way, but the mare just stood there, holding out an arm. The bird swooped down and landed on her arm, perching itself comfortably. She muttered something to it in Mijôra, the crystal language, then cocked a brow at me.
“Is something the matter? Do you not like birds?”
I pretended to brush dust off myself. Truth be told, this place was so clean that dust was probably listed on the local ‘endangered species’ list. “Er, it’s fine. Just… I was pretty sure that the bird was trying to peck my eyes out in order to feed to its seven-testicled hellspawn.”
“Aw, he can’t have children, now can he, Yyn?” she asked the bird, nuzzling it. The bird only stared ahead with its horrible, unblinking eyes, as if it knew just how monstrous it was and was tormented by the fact that it couldn’t scream and beg for death.
“Are you referring to me?” I asked in a defensive voice. “I’m sure that having your balls strangled doesn’t permanently murder any children-to-be down there!”
She exchanged looks with the bird. “No, I was referring to Yynwiç here. He’s sterile. You can see his three eyes, yes?”
I glanced to the tree at the lakecenter. “I was pretty sure it was just some weird symbolism.”
“No, he’s was born terribly mutated due to the things that… that King Sombra did. Yynwim loterij—um, I mean, Yyn’s parents just abandoned him, ejaculated him straight from the nest, so I took him in and raised him as if he were my own.”
“Ejected him from the nest,” I offered.
She looked around. “Yes, this is what I said.”
“No, you…” I shook my head. “Nevermind—what was that about a King Sombra?”
“Wç, Dêleth Sombra? I’d rather not talk of him, none really would.” She flashed me a smile, her crystalline complexion seemingly reflecting light from herself and into my eyes. I felt as though I’d need sunglasses just to be around her, but we were technically indoors, and only douchebags and blind ponies wore sunglasses indoors. And don’t even get me started on the sick depravity that is the blind douchebag.
I shifted my weight to another side. “O…kay, then. And so… You’re the High Priestess, aren’t you?”
She gave me a faint curtsy and nodded. The curtsy was off, like she didn’t really know what one was but had the vague idea down. “Ñar, she am I. Ly Vwsokimidh, polan? Atch, cham zô ngihilmiç atmetmiç Metmiç.”
“Yeah, I don’t understand your language,” I said flatly. “And though I understand that speaking loudly and slowly is the universal cross-language, it still won’t help me understand your crazy crystal funnytalk any better. And for that matter, you don’t look much like how I’d pictured you. For starters, I was pretty sure that you were going to be a crotchety old hag, not—”
“A dashing young dame?” she asked with a flutter of the lashes.
Not the words I’d use. Ever. “Yes, that.”
“Well, when the last Goddess calls upon thee, and the old Priestess is dead and rotten in the ground, age doesn’t matter so much as wit and an unshakable faith. But, you wouldn’t know of such faiths. Equestrians have no gods, am I incorrect?”
“Couldn’t say, I’m no Equestrian. But, on the other hoof, I can make a mean soufflé.”
“I like soufflés.”
“So do I.”
The raven made a raven noise. That bastard wasn’t going to be getting any of my soufflés, no sirree.
“So,” I said. “Do you have a name.”
“Kwl,” she said with a shrug.
“Cool? What about it is cool?”
“I… nevermind. Mijôravi joke.”
“Right. Well. I’m Jericho.” I held out a hoof.
The High Priestess extended a hoof, only to poke my offered hoof. “And I am called Snechta.”
“Snesh-tah,” I muttered. “Got it.”
She smiled. “I believe, in mythological connotations, it would equate to the myth of that pale mare and those terrible inbred, deformed short ponies. What was it? Ah, yes—Snow White. That is my name, Snechta AKA Snow White. At your service, Sedhoas.”
“Hmm,” I hummed. “Like Schneewittchen, as she’s called in my land.”
Snechta smiled. Her raven flew off and hit a wall spectacularly. It slid down, fluttered, then got back up. It was back in the air within moments, no real worse for wear. “Poor baby. That third eye is without use, and his vision is overall poor, but I still love him. He was a gift from Chêngrêla, I am sure.” She stepped around me and walked, leaving her pickaxe and the mostly broken statue behind. “Follow, Sedhoas.”
And I did. She led me up a set of stairs, through a door, down a corridor, and into a wide, airy room. It looked like a giant bathhouse built out of a natural hot spring, complete with steam, slightly bubbling water, and a towel rack off to the side. “I’ve been working all day to destroy those statues. Nopony’s here to help me, and it’s tiring work.”
I looked around the baths. Suffice it to say that, like every room here, it was brightly lit by those same crystals that were probably killing me from radiation. Oh, I could just feel the tumors now! “Why even were you trying to destroy them?”
“Well, because since all gods but Chêngrêla are dead now, I figured it fitting to destroy all effigies of the dead gods, leaving only the ones to the still-living Goddess intact.” She winked at me. “And I believe that some hard sweat does a pony good, don’t you?”
“You know,” I said in a flat tone, “I came here looking for you. They said that you’d only have time for me if I won—”
“Wait. So you put on what was certainly the best Mançthwl performance in history, winning against the reigning Lord Marshal, greatest warrior in the land, all for me!” She actually blushed at that, putting a hoof to her cheek.
I shrugged in a noncommittal sort of way. “Well, if you phrased it as ‘I murdered a guy I didn’t know for a girl I’d never met’, it’d sound far less romantic. Almost atrocious, really.” I paused. “And I find it rather telling that your expression isn’t changing at all right now.”
“Why, I don’t think you really understand just how flattering and romantic that is! You didn’t even know the mare whom you champion for, I hear, before you came to find me.”
“Those nice stallions in the black armor came to bring me to you, first of all. And second of all, of course I didn’t know the mare; I just met her off the street when she propositioned me. Do you expect me to just know some random mare off the street?”
She bounced once. “Well, if you knew her then, there would have probably been some serious negative political ramifications.”
I just looked at her. “I get the feeling that you and are I actually having two different conversation centered around some significant point I’m not getting.”
Snechta gave me an odd look, then walked off into another room, me following her. “You know,” she said, pointing around in the room that reminded me of a dressing room, “this is where I found her.”
“Found whom?”
“The old High Priestess,” she sighed. “She was just a rotten skeleton, nigh a millennium old. When Côrint returned and after Cadence, Shining Armor, and that dragon saved us, I wandered up the mountain with Yyn. I didn’t know what I was expecting, but I knew that this mountain temple was not caught in the lock that kept Côrint frozen in time.” Snechta gestured to a corner. “She was there; I suspect she hung herself, but the rope had long since rotten away before I ever got here. A thousand years is a long time.”
“I don’t understand. Frozen in time? Saved you?”
The mare looked at me like a radish looks at hamburger: forlornédly. “A millenium ago, a dark stallion, the dreaded King Sombra, once the leader of the military caste, overthrew our government and made himself King of the North, around the same time as that whole Nightmare Moon debacle further to the south. One way or the other, Côrint was banished from existence, trapped in a time loop for a thousands years before we were permitted to return.” She gave me sad eyes. “Every crystal pony you see is over a thousand years old. Even the foals, who had been stuck in their mother’s wombs for an eon. But we don’t seem so old, for we did not age nor did we feel nor did we have anything in that loop. One day, it was a thousand years ago. The next day, it’s been a thousand years, the old king is dead, and long live the Equestrian usurper who sits upon the false king’s throne as if the throne had always been there.”
“What?”
Snechta spun to face me, her eyes pleading. “You said you did this all for me, right?”
“I think you’re taking something out of c—”
“You want me for something, and you’ve proven yourself the greatest warrior in the land with what you did this day.”
“And I hear that you have a great healing spell that can restore me to how I was before I lost my eye.”
Snechta paused at that. “I… I think it’s possible. If there’s anypony who knows healing magic, it would be I. Only I could wield the Gift.”
“The Gift?”
“Yes, the Gift.”
I just looked at her. “You know, you might as well call it ‘the walrus tusk’ for all the significance it has right now, and nothing would change on my end. Seriously, just a fancy name means nothing.”
“It was a gift from Chêngrêla, her presence, the relic she bestowed to bless our once-mighty empire.”
I still just looked at her. “You know, in my language, the word gift, das Gift, means ‘poison’. So from my point of view, you’re just making it sound worse.”
“I… I beg your pardon?”
“Doesn’t matter,” I replied, shaking my head. “But you say there is a way to heal grievous, old wounds?”
Snechta gave a hesitant nod, and then she gave me a devilish smile. “Yes, though it’d be a bit tricky to activate and manipulate; however, I believe I know just the perfect place to find exactly what I need for the ritual.”
I shifted my weight, cocking a brow. “I can tell that this won’t be free on my part. What would you have me do?”
“You’ve done this sort of deal before, haven’t you?”
“Sold my soul and abandoned my morals because sometimes magic was just easier than being a good pony?” I asked. “Yes. Yes, I have.”
She giggled. “So, you want my help? I want you to find something for me, something I want most desperately and that just so happens to have the ritual that you need in it.” Snechta leaned in close, her lips going to my ear. Well, she tried to. Since I was so much taller than her, the attempt failed. I had to lean down for her. “I want you to find me a very, very unique book.”
I frowned. It took every ounce of my willpower not to reprimand her for saying “very unique”, and then giving her a lecture as to why something couldn’t be “very unique”. Really, how can something be “very one of a kind”? It just made no sense. And in that moment, a part of me came to dislike Snechta.
|— ☩ —|
The Crystal Castle was very weird inside. All the surfaces looked reflective, but weren’t. It was seriously freaking me out. The frequent purple carpets and flags on the wall, plus the occasional potted plant, helped keep me sane…ish. As for how I got into this situation, well, apparently Snechta had a friend in the watch. And Snechta wasn’t allowed in the castle because, in Snechta’s own words, Princess Cadance so ridiculously claimed that Snechta was “propagating a dangerous religious cult”. Now all I had to do was find the Imperial Archives, which were separate from the public library outside, somehow.
As I walked the tall halls—nopony really stopped me once I was in, possibly because I was wearing my suit—I came to wonder just why it was we attributed value to gold and gems. Why wasn’t money measured in useful things, like fancy hats? I would totally support an economy based entirely off fancy hats. But sadly, for most of the known world, all currency was measured in Mark, the Reich’s currency, which wasn’t measured in gold but in Mark themselves, because economists were the craziest of all ponies.
I made sure to add “Fancy Hat Economics” to the list of Reasons Why I Shouldn’t Be King.
Following the very nicely placed signs, I eventually came across the large doors that supposedly led into the library. Trying not to draw too much attention to myself, but mostly because I liked feeling like a superspy, I quietly opened the door and stepped in.
“…are all gone,” a stallion was saying from within the room. His voice made my heart stop.
“Do you… did you hear somepony open the door?” a mare asked, and her voice made my heart explode and die horribly.
I looked out at what was once a huge library. Once, because all of the shelves were bare, more bleak and empty than Cards’ sex life. I nearly galloped forwards to the edge of the railing, since I had entered on what seemed to be the second floor of the library.
“No, I don’t think so,” he said, and I looked over the railing and saw just who I thought it was.
“Hey, Duke Elkington!” I called out, waving vigorously at him.
The Duke, who’d been standing in the center of the first floor and seemingly been engrossed with an empty desk as he ran a hoof through his black mane, turned his head. His amber eyes focused on me as he squinted, and then they lost a pound of their luster. “Oh sweet Celestia, no…” I saw him mouth, too quiet for me to hear.
And I sprinted across the library, found the stairs, promptly fell down them and probably sprained my knee, and darted to where the Duke stood with a blank look on his face. I hug-tackled him to the ground. His face remained blank
“Hey, Ellie! I didn’t die even though I’m pretty sure you were counting on me to die and—”
“You,” the mare said. I looked up.
I gasped, and then got up and hug-tackled her tiny body to the ground. “Felicitat! It’s been only a few hours from my point-of-view, but two weeks or so from yours! How are you?”
Felicitat merely muttered something that wasn’t as cute as the squeak I’d been expecting. Cards would have given me a horrified squeak.
Getting off of Felicitat, I looked between the two ponies. “Boy, Elkington, I haven’t seen you since you tied to me to the bed, grabbed my penis, and showed me a whole new meaning of love that I never wanted to know.”
His jaw dropped. Felicitat groaned, then said, “The worst thing about him is that I can never tell if he’s lying. It all sounds honest to me, at least compared to how I can usually tell.”
“I-I never—” Elkington stammered.
“I know, at least I hope I know, but I can’t tell the difference from when he’s lying and stating the truth.”
“Sometimes I insert cabbages into my nose because it’s the only thing that lets me feel anything anymore,” I said darkly.
“Yeah,” Felicitat said, standing up on wobbly legs. “If it were anypony else, I could just tell he was lying from just… the touch, you know? Not with him.”
Elkington brushed imaginary dirt from himself. “Well, Special Agent Faust, I’d say it was good to see you again, but I don’t like to lie unless I really have to.”
“Aw, you really do care,” I chirped. “And, hey, have you seen my lack of an eye and horn?”
The Duke hesitated. “Yes.”
“The Devil’s Backbone did this to me,” I said in happy tones. “And because of that, I lost my left arm/foreleg/whatever.” I waggled said arm at him. “I got a new one from an unholy abomination that lived inside the cross that the Backbone wanted.” He didn’t reply, just exchanged glances with Felicitat. “So, what are you two doing here? And I see you found Felicitat fairly well, huh?”
Elkington’s eyes wandered around the empty, bookless library. “We were looking for a book, but it seems that said book has been removed—extradited, even. And yes, I found Felicitat most well. You did a good thing, somehow, by sending her to me.”
Felicitat chimed in an agreeable hum. “These last few weeks have actually been rather… cool. My empathic powers are totally useful for what Lord Elkington does, dealing with other ponies, intrigue, negotiations, diplomacy.” She smiled. “We came here to try to convince Princess Cadance to lend us a certain few objects from this ancient library while we waited to convince her to let her ponies volunteer to join the Caroleans because he doesn’t have enough influence up here in the north and so—”
“Felicitat,” Elkington said in a firm voice, and her ears flattened.
“Oh, right, sorry.”
“It’s okay.” He patted her on the head, and her ears perked slightly. “What she was trying to say was that my abilities to protect Equestria don’t have much weight up here in the North. The Crystal Empire—or whatever they’re calling it now—Scoltland, Gwent, The Pale, and so forth. I was hoping that Cadance would allow me to assist her in holding back the tide of strange happenings this far north. But she isn’t here right now, even though I scheduled this meeting a week in advance. Apparently, there was a really dark element to some local funfair that Cadance finds herself extremely upset over, and her trying to put an end to it is breeding some heavy dissent amongst the locals. So, I went here to try to find a book to read while I waited for her to return.”
“Ah,” I said, “so you’re up to no good as usual? Keen.”
“I wasn’t up to—” He shook his head. “What are you doing here, even?”
“Eh, I’m working with a local crazy pony High Priestess who wants a book in exchange for fixing the face that I broke when I helped solve your problem. So, basically, I’m also up to no good.” I slid an arm over his shoulders. He tried to pull away, but I held him tight. “But, hey, at least I’m not a rapist.” My expression grew dark. “It’s pretty much the only atrocity I’ve never committed.”
“I feel threatened,” Elkington said in a borderline hostile tone.
“Then thank your heathen Princess that I’m here you keep you safe with my lack of burliness but surplus of killer instincts. I’m like one of those guys whom you pay to protect you because otherwise they’ll beat you to death, except I work for free, but I might still beat you to death, because I’m an equal-opportunity psycho.” I ran my hoof down and poked his belly. “Touch.”
He jerked an arm and freed himself from me before I could lick his cheek—which was I moving to do. Licking was the first step to a non-sexist working environment. And also to cannibalism. “Don’t do that!” he snapped.
I made a really horrible slurping, slapping sound by putting my tongue partly to the roof of my mouth and back of my top front teeth, opening my mouth, tightening my cheeks, and sucking in air. Elkington didn’t even try to hide his disgust for the noise. I smiled thereafter and said, “Okay, Lord Nippelheimr. So, Felicitat.”
The mare blinked. “Huh?”
“Where are all the books that once were here? If you speak true, I’ll buy you a smoothie.”
“What kind?”
“Are we negotiating?”
“Uh-huh!”
“Strawberry-banana,” I offered in a firm, business-like tone.
“I don’t like strawberry-banana.”
I visibly started at that. With wide eyes, I found myself staring at Felicitat. Then, in a dark, throaty voice, I growled, “You’re dead to me.”
Felicitat shrank back, her ears drooping.
Elkington rolled his eyes, patted her on the shoulder, and cooed, “There-there.” Then he looked at me. “It would appear that Princess Celestia very recently demanded that Cadence turn the Imperial Archives here in the Crystal City over to the Royal Archives in Canterlot.”
“So she’s like a werewolf,” I said, “but with books.”
“What?”
“Well, I was originally going to say ‘So, she’s like a vampire, but with dicks’, but that’s my line in reference to myself, if only because it’s an awesome icebreaker at parties. Seriously. There exists no one who is quite as skilled as I am with breaking the ice.” I nodded, leaning up against empty bookshelf. “Oh, is our youthful party laden with far too much high-school-caused sexual tension? Why, let me just go up the second hottest mare at the party, pat her on the shoulder, and give her my condolences that her father died hilariously of prostate syphilis. Then just walk away.”
Elkington sighed. “You know, Faust, you’re not funny. You’re not. You think you are, but you’re not. You’re just cruel and unstable.”
“Hey! I am a pony, not a Höllenhund: ponies don’t belong in stables.”
The Duke said nothing for the longest time, only stared at me. “I can safely presume you should be causing more massacres somewhere else, so why don’t you get to it?”
“Wait. An appealing offer, but wait. So if all these books are in Canterlot, does that mean I have to go to the city of Canterlot in order to get at this special crystal book?” I asked.
He hesitated, looking at Felicitat and flashing her a little smile. Elkington adjusted the collar of his suit as he glanced about the vastly empty, lonely halls of what had once likely been a great library. It had probably mostly been really freaky porn, but some stuff wasn’t.
“I suppose it is.”
“Hmm,” I hummed, rubbing my chin.
“Oh, Fiddler play thee if you’re thinking what I think you’re thinking.” Elkington shook his head, his stance shifting. What, was he preparing to try to fight me? It was so precious! “There’s some sort of party in Canterlot Castle in the next day or so: a significant number of the aristocracy is going to be present. The Princesses will be there, too. So help me Soleil, if you do anything that so much as upsets Princess Celestia… I. Will. End. You.”
My expression twisted into an almost serrated smile. “Say, will they need music there?”
“They already have Sapphire Shores scheduled to play.”
“Well, perhaps in exchange for a promise that I won’t single-hoofedly bring the revolution and kill many ponies, you could do me a small favor—dot, dot, dot, dramatic conclusion.”
|— ☩ —|
As a rule, I didn’t listen much to classical music. I was only one classical ballad away from being a supervillain as it was. Give me smooth jazz or rock ’n’ roll or heavy metal any day. Too bad that Schwermetall didn’t seem to exist in this godforsaken country. Though I did have a few jazz music sheets in my bags somewhere.
When the gray mare took the stage, the large building almost went silent. She readied her cello, looking out at the mostly crystal pony audience. The mare swallowed, easily visible from my place at the very front, alone at my table. Looking around, she seemed to hesitant. Then she looked down to the front row.
I smiled and gave her a curt wave.
Octavia paused, blinking hard. Then she smiled, and she played her cello.
|— ☩ —|
“I can’t believe you actually showed up,” Octavia enthused with a smile as I met her behind L’Opéra. She was leaving it when I caught up with her and offered to carry her cello for her. “Can’t say I have many friends who’d do that, and I don’t even really know you.”
“No, you really don’t,” I said idly, walking alongside her through the dark but rather packed streets of Côrint. Neither of us said a word as we went through the streets. The fair had died down, likely something that Cadance did, as Elkington implied, but I could smell the sugary scents in the air mixed with the vaguely sweet-sour scent of berries. An idea of vanilla permeated the streets, not strong enough to make you gag, but strong enough to make you think pleasant thoughts.
“What are your plans now?” I asked as we nearly got to her hotel. “Do you still play here for another few days?”
“Honestly, I can’t say. The contract was for the day, and they have the choice of renewing the contract for further days.” She ran a hoof through her charcoal mane. “I rather enjoyed that, so I hope they seek to renew it.”
“Well, I think you shouldn’t seek to renew it,” I offered casually.
“What?”
“Well, I think there’s a much better opportunity out there.”
“I don’t follow what you’re trying to say.”
“Miss Octavia, tell me: what is it that you want above all other things?
She looked at me, stopping dead in her tracks.
When she didn’t speak, just kept giving me that puzzled look, I said casually, “Tomorrow night and the night after it holds a rather large event in Canterlot Castle. And mayhap I know a guy, and that guy scheduled a little gray mare with purple eyes who plays the cello to show up at this prestigious event before most of Equestria’s wealthy, well-to-do aristocrats.”
“I… I… What?”
I shrugged. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding in your life and your plans, but Duke Elkington and I are on… friend-foe terms, and on a friendly term I got him to use his influence to schedule you, Miss Octavia Melody, for this fancy party.” Octavia just stared at me, her expression unreadable. “I understand you’ve no reason to believe me, so here—”and I pulled out and gave her an envelope; it was sealed with the coat-of-arms of House Elkington, the swastika. “I had hoped that you’d enjoy this little gift. I’ve ruined and destroyed so many lives over the course of my life that sometimes going out of your way to help a stranger like you is the only thing that lets me sleep at night.”
And so long as I didn’t dream, I would keep sleeping well at night.
Drama queen!
Octavia was slow as she grabbed the letter. Even slower as she opened it, treating it as if it were a holy object. Or a snake. A holy snake, mayhap. One of those snakes that you milk, but instead of venom, you get actual milk, only it’s filled with little hairs. Slower yet did she read the enclosed letter.
“I… I… my Celestia… this is absolutely genuine!” Octavia said under her breath
I set her cello case down. “Yes, it is.”
“B-b-but why?”
“Because.” I turned around, shrugging. “Maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Wait, you’ll be there?”
“In a way. I declined an official invitation, exchanging it for what I just gave you.” I looked up at the moon. “I would much rather crash the party by sneaking in myself. Maybe cause some trouble. You know, generally be an all around bastard. Sometimes it’s just far more fun to be bad.” I waved over my shoulder at her, not looking. “Take care of yourself, okay, Miss Octavia?”
“I will, Jericho. I will. Oh, and one more thing!”
“Yeah?” I asked, hearing her running up to me. I turned around to see her right there.
With tears in her eyes, she kissed me on the cheek. “Thank you, Jericho. Thank you for everything!”
I smiled at her, then walked off without another word.
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Dear Readers..
Crushric is an evil, monstrous, dictator-ish bastard. Why? Every waking minute, every sleeping second, I'm haunted by this question, this uncertainty! A bug in the matrix of my reality! A unending enigma the answer for which I will never receive! Why, Crushric, why do you do this to me?!
Why did Lyra and Bon Bon need that guest room?!
I mean, so far I just assume that Lyra was going to move in with Bon Bon, and needed her own room for that so they had an extra one built, but before it was finished they had hot, sweaty sex and kissed and licked etcetera etcetera, but I'll never know!.
CUUUUUUUUUURSE.. YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUU..
The cannibalism comment before that made me think of this (especially that weird noise):
How the hell can you make me laugh with such simple things?
Nice to see Felicitat again, glad she's with Elkington; that's TWICE the amount of people to mess with for the price of one.
Team Fortress 2 in a nutshell.
3368789
Sometimes, it's the little oddities that we found so jarring as to laugh at.
3368952
Felicitat needed herself an update on where she now was, and Elkington was needed for plot stuff
3369079
Aye, say true.
3369092
Motherf—Fimfic must not have put that in when I converted formats and uploaded it here. It's there now. Thanks for telling me!
Did we just learn about a new language, secret magic books, demonic-ish cults, and assorted awesome things about the city of Côrint? ... Welp, time to go somewhere else!
Honestly, though, I loved the chapter. Even though it was pretty short, it had some really good character interaction. Probably just personal preference, but getting to see Elkington and Felicitat again really made my day.
I can't wait to meet Sunbutt, if at all possible.
Eh?
Typo there?
I think equestrian beavers would be a better bet, seeing as they are pack hunters and all.
Or maybe a flock of these little guys:
images.wikia.com/mlp/images/c/ce/Owlowiscious_Change_9_S02E07.png
Eldritch horrors from beyond space and time tend to get testy when you rudely wake them by smashing into their bedroom and nicking all their stuff.
Eldritch Horror: Defiler! You have profaned my resting place! A curse be upon you! I shall wither your mind with insanity!
Jericho:
I have already driven military grade psychologists and the rapists to suicide with my issues. Try again.
EH: (slightly peeved) I shall tear your horn and tail from your body! I will pluck out your eye and carve my names into your flesh!
Jericho:
(Takes off his hat and pats his horn stump) (Opens his shirt and shows his ritualistic brands, cuttings, and tattoos) (Flips up his eye-patch and shows his sewn-up socket) Way ahead of you there mate...
EH: (peeved) I will corrupt your flesh with my essence! It will consume you until you are naught but an empty shell to my will.
Jericho:
(Rolls up his sleeve and cuts his foreleg to reveal C's blue void-leg) Already got one. Maybe you could work out a deal / engage in mortal combat with C like the time half of me got turned into a mare and my mare friend and husband fought over conjugal rights?
EH: (frustrated) I will slay your family, rend your colleagues, consume your friends! you will witness the death of all you hold dear!
Jericho
My family burned to death during the Siege of Midgard. I euthanized my friends during the Winter Campaign when they became possessed, and used their bones the construct a pillbox to protect myself from the ravaging demon hordes.
EH: (exasperated) I will bind a Black Succubus from the Necromantic Void to you! She will rend your tormented flesh without mercy!
Jericho:
Already have a Cherrypillar...
EH: (angry) I WILL CORRUPT YOUR MORES AND MORALS! YOU WILL BECOME THE HEINOUS VILLAN YOU SOUGHT TO DESTROY!
Jericho:
I already slaughtered my friend's village and decapitated a foal. Bit late there...
EH: (desperate) Huh. Maybe I will just tickle you with this feather then?
Fortunately it is easy to take care of them with a sealed room full of broken glass and a sack full of bees...
Is Jericho mellowing out a bit here? Why not go full sociopath and make a ravens egg soufflé for Mister Yynwiç here?
Does she have a midget fetish as well?
Time to break out the chianti and fava beans...
Those were the card indexes cataloguing the collection as well as one or two slim pamphlets with some dull, boring history magic claptrap...
Come to think of it, the Crystal Ponies are essentially sapient minerals. What would their saucy executive stress relief material look like?
Barely legal alluvial deposits?
Hot volcanic action?
Sedimentary layer on layer action?
Metamorphic fetishes?
It seems that the word "tree" causes grammatical and formatting errors:
Before the first "tree" a "a" is missing, after the second "tree" is a double space.
About schweres Metall: Personally I would favor the translation Schwermetall. I know it doesn't mean Schwermetall in the proper sense, but that way it just better rolls off the tongue. Thoughts?
3369148 I suck c**k. That is all.
Good guy Jericho...
Sort of..if you twist it a bit
Is that a reference to this Team Fortress 2? Then again, this is all I know about Team Fortress 2:
I was wondering, is Jericho based off of another book, or television show? I don't doubt his creativity, just a thought.
3370589
If it is, I need to find it. NAOW.
3370589>>3371208
Meh. Jericho isn't really based off of anything in particular (aside from maybe Fallout). It just sometimes takes inspiration from a bunch of stuff that Crushric (as well as Siffer and I) reads, watches, and/or plays. Those shit-ton of Dark Tower references weren't by mistake. Crushric is very diverse when it comes to that kind of thing. Personally, I think it's because he can't bother to stay committed to one thing (the floozy), but what do I know?
JERICHO IS GOING TO CANTERLOT!?
...
dis gon b gud
But...I like jazz? Long live the king!
Anyway, I was looking at the story picture, and Luna's in there. I wonder if C is Luna. I guess we'll find out soon enough!
That's one sneaky TF2 reference right there.
EDIT: Or not so sneaky - it seems I'm not the first to notice it.
Yet another great chapter, Crushric (and associates). Whilst this was a little on the short side, I can't wait to see what happens once Jericho makes his way to Canterlot.
*Squee* Yet another reference to Wales. It shall become my new duty to detect all the Wales references. I would like to ask, why did you include Gwent as a name? Was it because of its history? (Gwent being the first kingdom in Wales to fall to the Norman Conquest, I could see a comparison to the Crystal Empire being King Sombra's first, albeit only, conquest.) Or was it simply a whimsical choice?
Either way, keep up the good work!
3369148
Well, while every place in Jericho might have a rich backstory and history, Jericho's first concern is hardly becoming a history book. He's merely living in a world with lots of history, and he learns bits and pieces as he goes.
And yay! Ye liked it—I was actually worried, as my editors will tell you, that that whole scene was rubbish
3369271
Fix'd typo
Yep. I just love giving Jericho shit. I hate to see him do anything to easy. I'm literally his worst enemy.
3369420
Trees hate Jericho. Trees and beavers are in league against him, I say.
And yes, I conferred your point with Messoria (mein Kölner), and we came to the conclusion that Schwermetall has a better ring to it.
3370164
Sometimes, just being a little nice is enough. Doesn't justifying him as a monster or redeem him or anything. It's just nice.
3370465 3372804
It wasn't written with TF2 in min, so it's not a proper allusion. But since it applies, I guess, I suppose people will understand allusions anywhere. Such is life, no?
3370589 3371208
No, Jericho isn't based off anything. 'Cept for the weird thoughts in my head. I assure you, the whole idea-thing of Jericho is entirely its own beast. Saturated with cherry-chosen neat bits from other stories (in homage-form), but its own beast.
3371461
Moonspeak is for Japanese in-universe Nippönisch/Neighponease/Nippunais, depending on what language they're being referring to in). Later on, we also get my custom-built, fully functional (if barebones) crystal langauge AKA Mijôra.
3371861
Bench ponies, unite! Lyra powers, goooo!
3371974
I've been wanting to go to Canterlot since before Jericho started. It's been a long time coming. I only hope it lives up to being as awesome as I want it to be. (Probably won't, but I can DREAM!)
3372510
Honest-to-God, that's a really clever thought and supposition. Since C is a Skinwalker, and C can walk in the skin of others.
3373383
:Jaw drops:
You... you actually understood what Gwent was. Well. Damn kudos to you. Bloody fine work.
As for naming, it's an odd little story. As tempting and pony-like of me to call this part of pony-Wales "Whales", I opted not to, because it was too silly for me. (Watch how in season 4, Whales is totally what it's called). So I needed a new, authentically Welsh name for an area (or two)
See, I was playing as mod for one of my favorite games, "Crusader Kings II". The mod was called Britannia 479 AD — The Winter King, based on "The Warlord Chronicles" saga by Bernard Cornwell. In that mod, I was playing as Arthur Pendragon of Dumonia. To my north was the nation of Gwent, and they were my allies in trying to beat back the Angles. They and I played a little game of thrones, and the Angles did kick our ass. Nevertheless, I picked that name in honor of my good ally, Gwent. Of course, I was planning on eventually backstabbing them when I converted to the Nicean (Christian) faith, because there can only be one King of Briton, but I didn't get that far before the Angles ROFLstomped me.
Here's a partial map of the game's start for reference of who's who and what's what. I love Crusader Kings II.
speedcap.net/sharing/files/c3/cf/c3cf3956f8063853fca1ebe5f36f50b9.png
Supernatural reference?
3374588
Nope. I ain't never watched Supernatural. I want to, but I ain't yet seen.
3371208 There's some SLIGHT similarities in tone to 'Freeman's Mind' (on Youtube), so that might be something; still not a "based on" though.
3369271 Your eldritch-horror dialogue made me literally LOL.
...Ya know, yours can't be the first ultra-mini-funsized-little-story in the comments; what if we browsed the comments and gathered them all up, per chapter, in a separate story? Don't know if it'd be LEGAL to post on here, but at least on a google docs or something, that could be amusing.
Also, I will do almost anything to avoid doing actually productive work, so yeah.
I gotta tell you Crush. There is nothing, nothing, on this fair earth that makes me quite so giddy as knowing there is a whole new chapter of Jericho to read.
There's also nothing that leaves me feeling quite so confused, mildly traumatised and filled with a strange desire to fill a bag with kittens and beat someone to death with it but hey, giddy has got to count for something right?
"I cocked a brow as I noticed her snake-like tail coming out from her robes and coiling around her leg."
That uh.....that isn't a tail as such Jericho......
And stop being so nice! I want you to hurry up and murder/traumatise Octavia yet.
Which reminds me, is Vinyl going to be in this story at all? You simply can't have Octavia without some Vinyl as well.
I actually tried that. It was quite amusing.
Well, life's been a bitch recently. I guess sometimes getting pimp slapped by ninja prostitutes helps get work done. Anyway, I need to make up for not commenting for the past couple of chapters.
1......2.....3..... 4
I think I caught a bad case of cannibalism. Blaming the sushi that street vendors sell.
I've said this before and I'll probably keep saying it "We need a crash course in The Reich's history".
I still have a grudge against people who casually switch in between languages mid-sentence. Especially if its one I don't understand. For all I know they're insulting my lack of a certain female reproductive organ.
Sometimes I like to dress myself up as a crab and pinch asses at beaches. Uh, yeah sure whatever floats your metaphorical boat made of orphan intestines.
The guard took that a little to easily. He probably gets off to ponies wearing pony fur and socks.
I hope I never have to ice my balls. From now on my life goal is to never engage in any activity were I could hurt my sack. So walking is definitely out of the question from now on.
Way to predict the next boss in Resident Evil and or Silent Hill.
Ok, Jericho try to guess what your partner is doing. "Come on Bogtopus give me some useful information! No, wait don't touch me there that's my no-no square!"
Yes, you're right Jerry! Soon you shall loose your other eye, but then you'll grow both that eye and your other missing eye back. Along with an eyeball that suddenly appeared on your penis. At least you can spy on mice now!
I never knew leopards traveled in piles. I always thought it was flocks or maybe decks.
It could always cut your balls off, staple them to your mouth, and force you to lick pigeon shit for the rest of your life.
I wonder if the seven testicles of hell get colder or hotter the further you go down?
Silly foreigners you don't ejaculate someone out of something. Unless that something is semen. And that someone is Cardsy.
Blind douchebags are a rare breed. Majestic, yet reclusive. You only ever see them at their breeding grounds. Walmart. They're easy to spot, look for the sunglasses and a golf club being used as a seeing rod.
She's calling you fat, inbred, short, deformed, and small in the pants. You going to take that! The answer is yes, always listen and obey your white overlords.
The Legend of Zelda games just got a little darker!
The Walrus Tusk, a mythical item said to be able to summon an army of walruses on the whims of the user.
Is Fifty Shades of Hay really that hard to find in the Crystal Empire?
Along with Strip For The King day and a national policy against orphans and mares with emotional trauma.
I'm changing my ship stance from Jericho's cards to Card-dust.
Mind readers, the whole lot of you.
Try covering them in peanut butter jelly first. I hear its an entirely new sensation.
I've never raped anyone before..... There's no time like the present.
Feminists agree 100%.
Sometimes Jericho says things that don't make a lick of sense. This isn't one of those times.
Start taking notes kiddies. This is how it should be done. You'll get all the bitches.
Don't be an asshole Jericho. Stables are a perfectly good form of shelter. Especially if they can only be opened with hands.
Well that ejaculated quickly.
Damn sluts, always wearing clothes and the like.
Hopefully I'll be able to comment on the next couple of chapters. I might just have to rape life a little bit to get some free time. Really looking forward to Jericho finally touching Celestia's magnificent cock!
3374986
The Jericho Team may or may not have a secret document filled with all our our funny ramblings and made-up 100-word sidestorie written as jokes in Skype.
3375442
It's remarks like this that make this whole ordeal so worthwhile to write!
Thanks, Crusading Cutie
Probably no Vinyl. Because Jericho isn't out to meet all the cool side characters just for its own sake. It's why Cards ain't played a role in Act 2: her presence would be a shoehorn for its own sake, not something I'm keen on.
And Tavi might, like Lightning Dust, just be one of the few ponies to befit from Jericho's reign of terror.
3375938
It took me about a minute to describe one of my favorite sounds to make. I'm well-known by my friends for being able to tell the kind of jokes you see in Jericho + make unnatural sounds with my face-mouth.
3378340
Dunno why you think of Roger or that it's a reference. Mayhap I forgot, but I'm pretty sure I thought of that comparison on my own. If it is a reference, I've forgotten it.
3378356
Jericho might be a mass-murderer (you'll see much later what I mean), but, dammit, he cares about the environment!
3377737
Well, the story only gets more... deranged from hereon in, ending with horrors and giggles and mutilations, because I believe that good stories are ones hat make you care about characters, and then the rest of the story is the author torturing the characters we like. Welcome aboard!
3381815
It's okay, He of Vaguely Scottish Name. I dropped a reference to a certain horn-thingy in the next chapter, as a joke about how similar those two mares look alike. You'll know it when you see it.
3382094
Pinkie Pie, you say? Well, just wait until chapter 12, "Smile". No, Pinkie isn't there, but it doesn't stop ponies from singing the Smile Song, and then having parents accuse it of sexual undertones.
Do Not Touch The Jericho: He Bites
...and is very sarcastic.
3380629
Dragonburn98! :Glomps: We've missed you and your vague, Stream-of-Consciousness posts!
A part of me is just so convinced that people don't really care about the Reich, even now. I'm trying to give the Reich's history in bits and pieces, so as not to infodump. Are you saying there should be some scene later on where the Reich gets a bigger bit of its history elaborated upon?
The only Copy that they know of is being held in Princess Luna's room.
Le gasp! Explain what this means and why it is!
They might rape you, sure, but you'll have them bitches!
We here at the Jericho Team also hope for this. And now for something completely different:
3380629
Token evil laugh!
It all started some twenty-five-hundred years ago, where Ponykind came from a continent that was neither Peditia, nor Equestria. This continent was named Nod, and it had tons of nations and crap, like france, and the empire of Jericho. Point being, some shit happened and the three tribes appeared, and lots of people left for Equestria, because why not, leaving Nod to become a wasteland. Amongst these refugees to Equestria was the royal family of Jericho, some Pendergasts—they become important later. So, ponies arrive in Equestria, mass genocide all the local tribes and people, start their own nations and crap, and all of a sudden you've got a slew of smaller duchies and baronies or whatever. Feudal shit. So this feudal congregation had a thing going where they would vote in one emperor for life, but suddenly half the little demesnes voted in Celestia, which pissed off the other half, because Celestia would sit on that throne for life. Quick side note, prior to these events, the Teutonic Order, an order of warriors, had been sent to Perditia to rampage, pillage, all that crap. Anyway, so the other nations were pissed and, led by one Aloysius "The Raped" Pendergast, they had a quick, messy war. It kinda ended "Meh" on every side, so a lot of the people from Aloysius' faction were like "Fuck this shit" and left for Perditia, where they started a new nation. Equestria has yet to recover from the huge loss of population. This all happened approximately fifteen-hundred years ago.
Some five hundred years passed, when Luna somehow shacked up with the ancient Teutons as Nightmare Moon, and another war happened. Celestia kinda comitted Genophilia, and some awesome dude with an axe named Jan Makkabäer or something went on an extreme killing spree, reuniting and rebuilding the broken nation of Teutschland into its first real likeness of the current TL. Some nine hundred years passed, Viktor "Der Landesvater" Pendergast was born, created modern Teutschland, killed The Good Stallion, all that crap, and the rest is history. Also, I skipped a lot of crap, I think.
This is the old history of TL, skipping a few things left and right, and some things that probably aren't canon anymore. Since I'm not the author, all of this is subject to change until expressed in the story, so yeah. Without value.
3384361
Well... has anyone ever mentioned how great of a history teacher you'd be? No?! Could have fooled me. Regardless, it's time to mark this bitch up because it's late and I have nothing better to do.
I know you said that most of this stuff is probably crap and not accurate, but I'm going to point out shit anyway. Doesn't this directly contradict something Jericho said in chapter uno? I think it was something along the lines of "Equestria, fabled birthplace of pony kind".
Those pussies have gone soft over time!
"Ok kiddies, today we're learning about old equestrian history. Which, mind you, can easily be summed up in two words. Feudal shit. You're welcome, class dismissed.
So is Perditia connected to Equestria proper via land or are they separated by a body of water?
So Aloysius and his people created Teutchland on the continent of Perditia. Which then promptly fell to demons or some shit, but in the darkness shown a light in the form of Jan Makkabäer. Who recaptured the lost lands and brought Teutchland into a new age of glory.
The Pendergast family stayed in charge for over NINE HUNDRED YEARS! That's mildly impressive.
Meh, it doesn't matter if it's not cannon. It's still some interesting information.
3382183
Yep, so far you've been giving us drops of the entire story. It's like water, all them thirsty bitches want it but all they get are little drops. Hardly enough to satisfy the never ending quench that is the stereotypical white-trash girl. Maybe a short chapter sometime in da future, or just more information given out at one period of time. It doesn't really matter, it's your story after all. I have faith in whatever you decide to do with this story. Unless that decision involved trashing and or putting this story on hiatus.
3390659
Ah dunnaw what chaptur one sayeed, but generally speaking the Teutons refer to Equestria as 'The Motherland' because it is the place wherefrom all the ancestral Teutons migrated.
Perditia and Equestria are actually separated by a huge ocean or something, basically speaking making transfer therebetween pretty goddamn difficult. And that, I can promise you, is canon. Or, at least, I'm ninety-percent sure. You can't trust Crushric, man.
Well, there's a five-hundred-year gap in between those events, but sort of. When Celestia comitted Genophilia, AKA loving the Teutons to death with deadly diseases, poisonous air and generally not putting out, the nation ended up being pretty close to broken. Considering that Crushric's new canon for Jan has him killing vampires and demons in the hundreds or some wacky, badass shit like that, it's not unthinkable that Teutschland suffered heavily from supernatural creatures after the pains of the war ocurred. But basically speaking, Jan Makkabäer Pendergast comitted a Skantarios - who was also a Pendergast, the one who made The City of Jericho into a super-power back in the times of Nod, to be exact - and rebuilt Teutschland into one large super-nation, stronger than ever.
I think we'll come to learn later on that the Pendergasts are some of the most badass individuals on the face of the planet. Mostly due to the winnowing process, probably. Like, nine out of ten Pendergasts die early. Way early.
I think it'd be fitting to comment that in general strokes, I don't expect Crushric to change any of the names or events which I've mentioned. He's gonna be 'ave to verify that himself, but I'm pretty sure he's keeping the majority of things. No reason to change it now.
3390659
You're thinking of when Jericho mentioned the Venerated Vaterland (AKA Das Altvaterland, since Das Vaterland, The Fatherland, is now the Reich)
Separated by a large ocean/sea, aye. I don't know yet what Equestrians call it, but the Reich calls it "Die Zitternde See", "The Shivering Sea". This is the WIP name.
If you wanna get into some deeper lore, House Pendergast is the perhaps oldest still-living household in the world. Legend has it that the founder of the dynasty was none other than Kain himself, he who murdered Abel. Due to some biblical stuff involving God scrambling genes and DNA, only Kain still held the blood of First Ponies, thus the legends say that House Pendergast has the blood of God/Kain in it. Nevermind that the first mention of the name "Pendergast" (as "Pendregast") was some 3340~ years ago as minor nobles in a kingdom that equates to the real world's East Francia. And ignoring how they came to rule the Imperium Iericuntis (Empire of Jericho, centered around the city of same name, which, in this world, was like Rome, Jerusalem, and Constantinople all rolled into one—the nation after which Jericho himself is named) about 2766 years ago after a palace coup, taking the reigns of an ancient empire that was all, for all intents and purposes, destroyed.
They've been around now for a while. Nowadays, to make reference to George R.R. Martin, "They say that madness and greatness are two sides to the same coin. Every time a [Pendergast] is born, God flips this coin, and the whole world holds it breath, waiting to see which side it lands on."
Really, I'm just scared of infodumping. I"ll try to get more info out on the Reich as time presents itself. But I also think that if I have to explain something in the comments, I failed as a writer. Still, many franchises only give neat backstory bits in supplementary materials.
3393128 Man, if that happened then neither one would get round to killing the other. They would just stand around attempting to terrify one another with strange mouth noises, disturb one another with unbelievable anecdotes and distract one another with bizarre tangental relationships between ideas. Before getting bored with, and possibly semi-attracted to, their (im)moral counter part and just walking away to find some other side quest to take part in.
Either that or they would sit down and start playing Dungeons and Dragons together.
Woo! I finally caught up! Thank God for e-Readers...
So, uh... really, really great story. Easily one of the funniest stories I've ever read, just because of Jericho's deadpan snark. Also, a Dark Tower fan? Much respect, Crushric.
Speaking of Jericho, he is my favorite OC on the site. I honestly cannot think of a single other character that I love as much as him. He points out all the things "wrong" with the show and Equestria in general, and he can legitimately do that because he's not Equestrian. And then commenting on the nature of the story itself (like the raven, in this chapter) is really funny because it's meta, but it doesn't read that way.
I look forward to whatever may happen next. This is one of the best things I've read in a very long time.
3393128 3401272
Crusading Cutie has a point.
Besides, the fun part is that everyone is so serious about everything. And then there's Jericho. Really, the closet thing you what you're describing is actually C, if he gets in the spirit of things.
3401644
That was actually rather heartwarming to read. It's comments like yours that make this whole writing process worth doing!
Seriously, you flatter me (and the Jericho team). I write because A) It's fun and B) To please. I like to think that Jericho is different, at least, from the big fandom story OCs (Looking at you, Fallout Equestria) because he can go through situation just as dark, even darker, and come out laughing and telling jokes. It makes him more fun to write (and read?) because he doesn't really have to deal with angst. Minus a bit with Sleepy Oaks, but oh well.
This is why I thought that the idea of Jericho being not an Equestrian would make for a better story.
Great to have another bloke join this terribad adventure that is Jericho, and I look forward to seeing you around here often in the near future. But till then—take care!
(P.S. I wonder if there's any popular interesting in a Jericho in the Equestria Girls Universe arc for this story.)
3401644
That's a nice comment. And you know what? Now that you've commented once, you have to comment every time the fic updates!
Evil laughter!
Anyway, glad you like Jericho. He's definitely one of the more interesting personas out there because, in my opinion, he sort of adresses the role of main character from the opposite direction. Many a fantasy setting story has their main character be this super powerful or destined creature, which has the capacity to change the world greatly through their power, and on their journey they have to deal with moral conundrums and, good gods, angst.
Jericho, on the other hand, is pretty weak. I mean, he's got Dem Muscles, he's toned, trained, experienced, but on the "Monster" scale of power-levels, he's no more powerful than your run-of-the-mill pony. What makes Jericho so wonderful is that his mind is a fortress. His mental bastions are almost undefeatable. He doesn't worry overmuch about doing the right thing. He doesn't hesitate at comitting murder to make the world, as he sees it, a better place. But he doesn't come off as a douchebag while being that sort of person.
Likewise, due to the nature of the show, it's pretty easy to find small flaws of thought. In all honesty, though, this is nothing. If the mane six were in the story, Jericho would probably have ripped them apart psychologically. There are so many things to complain about with the mane six, all based upon viewing them as rational people, all derived from ill-fitting writing. After all, two of them are racist; one of them is completely inconsiderate and pyschopathically depressed; another is condescending, proud and, quite frankly, both naive and stupid; the next last one is so unbalanced that she falls between the categories doormat and mind-rapist depending upon her mood; and the last one is, I don't even know, a horrible friend, probably.
Likewise, the whole "Things be gettin' Meta, yo" aspect of Jericho's character works because he's not breaking the fourth wall, he's being genre savvy, which is obviously maybe kinda completely different. C, too, is incredibly genre savvy. All the villains who aren't have, so far, died. Big time.
And to leave you with a final comment regarding my view of Jericho, when talking about our grand hero here, I always say:
"When Jericho enters the playing field, the world naturally becomes darker. The villains become more cunning, more cruel, more pragmatic and more heartless. There is a good explanation for this: the fact of the matter is, that Jericho himself is so cunning, pragmatic and heartless that if the villains don't up their game then they're already dead."
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Exactly, which is why he's my favorite character on the site. He's just this guy, y'know?
Yeah, I agree. He's not addressing the reader; he's addressing himself, which is what makes him so darn interesting. He picks up on little details and either goes off on random tangents about them or remarks on how ridiculous they are and moves on. It's hilarious.
3402106 An Equestria Girls arc? What fresh hell will he get himself into? If there was a time to break Jericho down mentally, that would be when to do it.
3402106
Yes, get on it now. Seriously that would probably be the greatest thing ever.
Page 23: There should have been an additional perk here. 'Musical Monopoly', for what Jericho has done for helping Octavia in her sidequest.