Grinding Stone
Heat and stone. Blood and sand.
That is what Mordane would remember about the arena. The caustic nature of it. The sun overhead and the roaring fires lighting at night. The arena was a place where individuals are not put to a test but are broken. Where blood and fear are exchanged for coin and prestige. In that sense it is the perfect allegory for Tietus.
Mordane’s ragged fur was dripping wet and pooling in his cell.
For most ponies the occasional scream would put them on edge. Start them looking to make peace with the creator and wonder if they would kill.
Mordane had no such concerns. Just a growing tension. His mind conjuring his standing. Naked, bare wings in the arena. Ponies looking or laughing as he killed. Not for gain, not for glory but as a slave to the masses of a broken city. Rotting from the inside.
The king played across his mind as the sweat began to drip off of him. Plopping to the ground and pooling in the uneven damp stone already saturated from the mopping it had received before his arrival. He remembered the smug grin. The piercing eyes and his general liking of the stallion despite the off aspects about him. Things that should have been pushed to the forefront of his mind and made him doubt. Yet still he felt he was somehow in the right place, at the right time. He could be anywhere else, he could be raising a new mercenary army for higher, his name was well known enough. He could simply be seeking his fortune or going to Haridon to see if he can contact his grandfather. But he was here.
Whatever the reason, he knew his worst enemies would not be on the sand of the arena but in the royalty box. Measuring scales of gold in his mind.
________________________________________________
Mordane was sweating again. His back hurt from push ups.
He laid down on the stone floor of his cell panting, his head dizzy from the lack of air. His mind coming back from two days before.
Even as the guards had lead him away from Trixie he had known the walls of this place where old.
Surprisingly though it wasn’t exactly dingy or as smelly as the rest of the town. Ponies could be seen down side corridors mopping all the time.
Mordane blinked and paused momentarily at the litter carrying an groaning pegasus whose wing was no longer attached. A unicorn was walking with the litter casting frantically to heal and reattach the limb.
Mordane continued on, nodding to myself internally.
They play for keeps here.
As he walked down the hallways Mordane could hear the dull roar of a crowd begin to grow louder. At first he wondered if there would be no time to prepare. If he would be forced to fight in this armor made for show by Miss Swirl.
That was quickly answered for him as his armor was stripped in the next room along with every single piece of clothing. He was left with only his skin.
I feel naked Mordane subconsciously shivered. He hadn’t been publically without clothes since leaving his hometown.
Another pony walked into the small room. He was big, grizzled and looked at Mordane with little interest.
“I am the pit manager. We have been informed to treat you as a volunteer.” His new escort said before leading down a hallway “Any attempt to escape though and that right will be revoked and you’ll be collared.”
“Alright.” Mordane looked up at his exposed horn. “I’d prefer my horn protector though.”
The pony paused looking back and examining Mordane’s horn before shaking his head.
“What a waste.” he motioned to an attendant to reattach the protector. “It is near ready to let breathe. Matter of luck in such things if you will still be able to use magic eventually.” He turned and walked down the new hallway motioning for Mordane to follow.
“Yes.” Mordane nodded following after him.
He was lead quietly down past cell after cell with ponies stuffed in. He noted as he came toward the end that the cells got less crowded. He even started seeing single beds. They were still packed with ponies though.
“There must be hundreds of ponies here.”
“Aye.”
They took a turn and before Mordane knew it they stepped out into the light again. A walled off section attached to the Colosseum not open to the public. The large structure seemed to loom over the yard. Forty ponies stood waiting.
“Good evening fools.” Snarled the manager. “Some of you have come under my care by choice” he looked at Mordane and another two. “Others are Looking for glory or perhaps preferring the small chance of survival over a lengthy prison sentence. Some of you were sent here for capital crimes. others for treason. None of that matters now. For you are in the Colosseum. The beginning of all things.”
He began to pace slightly. Mordane felt the tension thicken with his every word.
“Over a thousand years ago this building was the central legislator of a grand republic. Ruled by two monarchs. One of the sun, the other of the moon. Until the Nightmare War. The tyrants’ armies occupied the city but their princess fled before the coming of the moon princess. She drove her army through the wall and into what we now call the arena. What was then called parliament.”
He turned to look at the crowd, disgust on his face. “The councilors were rounded up and put into the arena. Arms all around them. What did so many of the pitiful councilors do but beg for their lives. Promising service, wealth. Anything. Knowing that they had nothing. So the princess looked at them and said ‘What need have we of the weak? Only one will remain’. Some begged more. Others moved toward the weapons. Those that won were appointed lords of the realm. Their descendants rule us to this day.”
The grizzled Colosseum manager looked them over. His eyes piercing fiercely.
“In time, the Colosseum has become the central execution point for every kingdom of the southern lands. Tradition dictates that one in ten fighters that fight here will survive the fighting and be let free as the Princess wills. Perhaps that will be you.” He motioned to another assistant who came forward and began reading off names and cell numbers.
Mordane followed the group to the mess hall. It was in a building off from the yard seprate from both the Colosseum, cells and barraks. Once in there Mordane was given a small portion of potato and bean soup which he ate readily before being lead past the cells.
After the door clanked shut Mordane realized he was in the room with five others. One unicorn, two pegasi and two earth ponies.
Mordane looked over the oddly clean room. The other five ponies looked at him as well.
“Well… It’s a winged Unicorn?” Said the Unicorn.
“Ah, seems so. Horn is covered though. You got a busted horn?"The largest earth pony said.
“Yes” Mordane sitting into the corner. The only spot open.
“Name’s Smithy.” Spoke up the earth pony as he pointed to the unicorn “he’s Frosthorn.”
“Nice to meet you.” Mordane droned. “What of them?” Mordane indicated the other ponies in the room.
“No idea. None of them will talk to us two.” Smithy snorted.
“It’s quite strange” Frosthorn said. “Me and Smithy came here to fight in the Arena but I think they are forced.”
“Huh” Mordane thought that perhaps there was another reason but he didn’t say that. “Well, do you know when we will be taken into the arena?”
“Tomorrow I think. Want to play cards?” Smithy asked.
Mordane shrugged and motioned to the floor. Letting himself sit down to start the game.
____________________________________________
Mordane looked at the corner, a small pile of cards sat there at the base of a blade given by the king himself. He didn’t know how Smithy had gotten ahold of the cards but he was grateful for the short respite. In truth he liked each of those ponies. They were of the strong sort. The go getters that he could respect.
The empty cell seemed to pull at him. Its hollow accusation resounding deeper than even the loudest trumpet.
Silently he walked over to the corner and drew his new sword.
In truth Mordane came to enjoy that night. The two other talkative cell mates talked all night with him. Smithy and Frosthorn were from a city called Toe. It bordered right up against the great divide. It was an earth pony kingdom but not because of military might.
“No one else wants the place, but they do want the iron from the mountains. As long as they pay we ship it to them.” Smithy had joked.
Frosthorn had been found by Smithy’s family when he was a colt. The two brothers had heard of the arena and came to win enough money to help their family break into minor nobility.
Mordane listened to them talk with a small smile. Something though was eating at him.
Why only one bed?
“Come out!” Shouted someone from the hallway as they unlocked the gate. “Your turn.”
Mordane and the other five got up and walked outside before being lead down the hallway, then up some stairs and before a large door.
“Pick out your weapons." The guard went over to a large lever connected to a door opening mechanism.
Mordane looked over at the wall then the two talkative ponies, raising an eyebrow.
Smithy shrugged and walked over to the wall and picked up a hammer. Frosthorn followed after and slipped on an enhancer ring. The other ponies picked up various items and prepared. Suddenly a chill went down his spine.
He walked over to the wall and hoofed off a sword. Before lining up in front of the gate. He let himself be passed, choosing instead to stick to the back of the pack. Looking at Smithy and Frosthorn who smiled back at him. He gave them a small smile in return.
The doors opened. Each pony walked out as the light came streaming in. Mordane took a moment to steel his heart and walked through.
The arena was bigger looking on the inside. Nearly a thousand ponies sat in the stand. Earth ponies, pegasi, unicorns and even a few griffins all chatted, cheered and laughed.
The floor was sand, it's grainials well-trodden with hoof prints. Then there was the wet sand spots here and there.
He went with the others and moved to the center of the arena. He noted the other non-talkative ponies positioned themselves around the three of them.
“Get ready.” He whispered to the other two. They blinked then frowned at his intense stare at the other ponies’ weapons.
The floor of the arena was circular but there was an audience box to the side with a small raised platform to one side. As Mordane looked he saw the King sitting under the gazebo receiving a glass of wine. To his right sat the strangest being he had ever seen but he didn’t have time to examine him as an old pegasus stepped up onto the platform.
“For the last match on the third day of this month of games we have something special for you.” He gestured to the Mordane and the other ponies in the arena. “These ponies shall fight…to the death!”
The crowd cheered lightly, most only seemed moderately interested but Mordane’s eyes snapped to the ponies around him as their eyes hardened.
“Fight! Till only one remains!”
The ponies around him seemed to pause for a moment. Barely breathing as they looked from one to another. The tension almost ringing in the air. Their eyes took measure of them.
Suddenly, the tension broke and everypony moved.
One of the ponies thrust his spear into another's back as every pegasi took to the air. One pony jumped toward Smithy and Frosthorn, sword aimed for their necks.
Mordane was in the air. He didn’t have time to look at anything else besides the two pegasi coming after him as he sped into the air. Snarling, he spun before darting down at them with drawn sword pointed down. The one on the left turned sharply, aiming his sword for Mordane’s shoulder. Mordane made a snap decision and lightly swung his blade to deflect his thrust. His blade ricochet. This caused Mordane’s sword to drive deep into the right one’s wing muscle. His eyes twisted in pain. Seizing up he crumpled to the ground, while the left one impacted Mordane and the flyer who tackled him careened toward the wall.
They smacked against the wall and tumbled down with a loud thud. Once they hit the ground Mordane grappled with the pony twisting one way then the other. He finally was able to reach down and draw a small knife on the ponies thigh before plunging it into his heart.
A few moments later Mordane slid up. Only to have to fling himself to the right as another pony with a mace came at him. Then that pony was skewered as the other pegasui Mordane had injured earlier tried hitting him. His face now supported a large gash and was crumpled slightly. He took a few steps toward Mordane before shakily falling to the ground a few moments later from blood loss.
Mordane panted and looked out over the field. It had only been a minute since the fighting had started. The last pony, Smith was walking toward him. Mordan fumbled for his sword and drew it up.
“I have to Mordane. Frosthorn he-”
Mordane didn’t give him a chance to finish. He took to the air and swung with a wide arch. Smithy blocked with his shield, eyes widening slightly.
“Only one.” Mordane hissed. “It will be me.”
Smithies eyes flashed.
Mordane drove his hoof into Smithy’s ribs. Then he stepped back and aimed for the ribs again. Smithy was able to block but the blade slid off the shield and loped off his other hoof.
Before he could even scream Mordane drove the blade point through his head.
The body slid to the ground. A few rough claps sounded over the stadium.
Mordane couldn’t believe it. This clapping was pathetic. His eyes went over to Frost horn. His head was smashed. The first pony had likely been his last.
“And we are done. Stronghoof proceeds to the tournament. That's all folks! Come back tomorrow for more exciting games!”
Most of the crowd was already leaving. His eyes turned toward the king. A frown was on his face.
Disgusted, Mordane trotted out of the arena and back to his room. The guard nodding to the wall but Mordane just dropped the blade in front of the door.
Once inside he fell onto the single bed and went to sleep.
______________________________________________
His breathing had slowed. The four walls still stood empty.
He had won, but he had also failed. His fighting had been weak. Better characterized as a brawl. He could push with wind. He could strike well with a sword, seance his enemy and even utilize great strength.
However, these did not come together into a cohesive fighting style. He had a bunch of pieces but no structure.
Mordane sneered at himself. Before, with magic, he had an easy way and the various pieces had been used situationally. Magic was the catch-all glue that had made him a force on the battlefield.
He laid down on the bed, his breathing slowing. He pushed away thoughts of Frosthorn and let himself drift to sleep.
_________________________________________________________________________
King Barbarus mouth drew into a firm line. His eyes where looking out over the harbor where a grand ship was pulling in. As it parked his brow furrowed even more. Lazily he let his drink topple over the ledge to fall down into his castle courtyard far below. He never even thought about who it might fall on.
The match had been underwhelming. Mordane hadn’t even stopped ponies from leaving. It was atrociously done.
“I believed he was some great warrior?”
“Oh Claw,” Barbarus chuckled “Not warrior, commander.”
“I know no difference” He said, flicking his claws against the stone.
“The difference is obvious and it is something I knew already. Yet I didn’t consider that the alicorn might not be a fighter.”
“He may very well have been holding back.”
“Or his broken horn neutered him.” Sneered Barbarus “Have you heard of how he became injured?”
“Fighting a dragon. Saving a princess. A token by the sun for alicornhood. I’ve heard many things”
“He broke the protective spells of the Night Fortress and channeled the energy.”
“...”
“Yes.” Barbarus said, pointing at the creature as he reached for another drink. “That is the right reaction.”
“What is left of the fortress?”
“Nothing. The spellwork unspooled in a matter of days then the whole thing collapsed. Taking half the mountain with it.”
“...”
“I have two messages for you to deliver.”
__________________________________________________________
Mordane woke up with a knock on his door. He slid over and stood, still in his armor. The killing from days earlier was resting bitterly on the back of his head.
He swallowed it and walked to the door.
The creature standing there on the other side of the opened door seemed like as if from a dream.
The face was that of a pony but it's furred neck gave way to scaled shoulders and wings. Instead of hooves short claws rested against the floor.
The room continued to titer. The cave. His master. The falling.
“Sir Stronghoof?” the creature asked. Snapping him to.
“Yes?” Mordane’s eyes tightened in on him. “Why are you disturbing me?”
“The king requires you in the arena. Now.”
Mordane blinked then tightened his jaw.
“Lead the way then.”
Down the hall and up into the arena again. The open doors didn’t blind him this time. Instead he stepped into an empty arena. The king and half a dozen guards sat in the observation booth and a single earth pony stood in the arena.
“Is this him?”
Mordane frowned. He had picked up a sword before coming out. The stallion in front of him though held nothing.
“Mordane. Your fight this morning.” The king dismissively waved his hoof. “You need to show me something more if we are going to do this. Otherwise we are done.”
Mordane nodded. There was little point in giving an excuse. Fighting had never been his forte. He would have to do better.
He squared with the earth pony.
“Hey! Introduce yourself.” snorted One Eye.
“Why?” Mordane replied as they began circling. The old pony was clothed in a iron curio up to and covering his neck and wrapping around his body. His coat was orangish brown and his mane was black. One of his eyes was covered with a patch.
“Because that's what other ponies do.” The old earth pony snickered. “I am called One Eye the Demon. You?”
“My name is Stronghoof.”
He snorted.
“Well. There is no point in waiting.”
One Eye paused for a moment.
Then he stomped his hoof and in a moment he was a foot from his face.
Mordane had no time and so he reacted instinctively and kicked his forehoof while pushing off his back ones. Aiming to drive his hoof through One eyes face.
He was too slow, One eye moved right past his outstretched hoof and his seemed to snake, coming right for Mordane’s chin. Mordane barely dodged as his wings thrust him into the air.
“You're not getting away that easily.”
One Eye jumped and before Mordane could do anything his hoof impacted into his chest.
Mordane rose a six more feet into the air. He gasped. One Eye impacted the ground like a ton of bricks.The sound reverberating to his bones.
Mordane shook with the impact. Slidingly softly to the ground he gasped and clutched his stomach.
“Huh, you're still up. Usually only an earth pony can take a hit like that.”
“How?” Mordane gasped “How do you hit that hard?”
One Eye snorted.
“I just push against the earth and it pushes back.”
Earth pony magic. He is somehow making himself physically stronger.
Mordane looked over at his dropped sword. It would be useless to him in this fight.
Mordane noted that he wasn’t panicking. Just like in the fight earlier that day he was only feeling angry.
So he jumped as fast as he could and blasted off with his wings to add a boost, aiming to just land something. One Eye though just seemed to hop to the side.
As Mordane passed, One Eye bucked.
Mordane never felt the impact. There was only blackness.
_________________________________________________________________
Mordane is awake in his room, a room that somehow feels colder than before. His eyes are focused on his horn as he chews on some weave grass to dull his pain.
With magic he might have stood a chance against One Eye but without it was truly what he had been concerned. He was a lame duck, a sword with no edge. Yet he didn’t despair. Instead he collected himself and meditated.
At the foot of his bed was a crumpled note. Given to him by the half dragon half pony named Charon apparently.
The note said:
To The Bloody Mercenary Stronghoof
Our agreement was with the understanding that your skill in battle was quite high. A mediocre fighter can be made interesting but not without considerable time and investment. Far more than you could draw I’m afraid.
As such I’m afraid we will need a reworking of our agreement.
Firstly this, I will be publically announcing your capture by the guard and your sentence of execution for the murder of count Fairwind.
In one month's time you will be entered into the final tournament. I hope you do not disappoint me again.
He would have burned the note but the cell had no fire. Instead it laid there, burrowing into his mind. Only the fear of another finding it stopped him from throwing it out the window.
Exercise won’t help me. I’m already strong as most soldiers. He sighed Boulder had warned me this might happen. Stalker tried to teach me. Heck they practically forced me. Lord, I miss them.
So he closed his eyes and tried to remember.
I know the wind, but not how to use it effectively as a soldier. I have the war magic but not the instincts. Then there is this earth pony strength. I have it but no skill in enhancing it any further.
He thought back to all the warriors he had been around. When it came to spells he was skilled, stronger than most and quick to cast but that had dulled him in other ways. It had left him vulnerable when his horn was broken. Spells though had a limit, eventually the energy in an area would be spent and impractical to draw on.
Hopping off his bed he pressed his wings against the ground before starting windups.
The exercise was much easier then he remembered. Eyebrows furrowing he wondered if it would be enough.
“You are so dead.”
“Wh-"Mordane didn’t even have time to register who was talking when the hooves started landing. Before he knew it he was in the floor.
Desperate he pulled his wings back and sent a blast of air knocking him against the rear wall.
He forced himself to focus on the attacker. It was-
“Smut Peddler!? What in Tartarus are you doing!?”
“What does it look like.” He threw off his black cloak he had been using to hide in the shadow. "I’m here to kill you for what you did to my brother!”
“What!? Childstalker-”
Smut Peddler jumped across the room, diving into Mordane’s chest and pushing him into the corner. A knife appeared and was pressed against his throat.
“You got one word.” Smut growled “One thing to say before I cut your throat!”
Mordane paused, breathing heavily. Thinking for a moment before continuing.
“Liar”
Smut Peddler growled and readjusted his knife.
“What.”
Mordane grunted and tried to turn as much as he could to look at Smut.
“Stalker died saving my life.” Smut pressed the knife “-and you know that.”
“Horseapples.” Smut stepped back and flipped his knife into a sheath before he placed it into his hair.
“You fight terribly.”
“Well, yeah” Mordane said rubbing his throat.”Why are you here?”
“Been watching you. Found my brother, buried him.”
Mordane frowned.
“Found a note on him as well. Told me what he thought of you. Only reason you're not dead right now.”
“Look, Smut, I miss him as well and...His death was my fault.”
Smuts eyebrow raised.
“Now that. That is not the Mordane I know.”
Mordane sighed and sat down on the bed, tucking his legs under him.
“Stuff happened.”
“What stuff?” Smut Peddler said, his voice like a slowly drawing knife.
“First, our forces made it deep into Irona land. After securing a beachhead we built the bridge we were suppose to before finding out an army was heading toward us-”
“Yes, I know that. What happened to my brother?”
“...On the night I was captured, the enemy captain launched a surprise attack. Child Stalker took a blade to save my life.”
“Dammit.” Smut peddler threw the knife into the wood foot of Mordane’s bed while standing and rubbing his head. “So he gave his life for you...I guess I can’t kill you then. It would make his waste useless.”
Mordane frowned but said nothing. What was there to say?
“So...what now?”
Smut Peddler turned back to Mordane sighing, his eyes hardening.
“I saw your fight in the arena. It was pathetic.”
“...I don’t know about pathetic.”
“Didn’t Stalker teach you any hoof to hoof?”
“I...didn’t pay attention, to my regret.”
Peddler slapped him. Mordane fell to the ground, his face throbbing already as Peddler shoved his hoof into his face again. Eyes on fire.
“You will. You. will.”
He grabbed Mordane and threw him into a push up position.
“You will.”
__________________________________________________________________
As the light began to pass over the ocean and the seagulls cawed, a grizzled earth pony darted from wall to wall. In each place he put up a poster on which was a silhouette and the arena symbol.
Groups of ponies would stop and whisper. Some making adjustments to their daily plans.
In the castle the king drank wine.
______________________________two weeks later________________________
Smut Peddler had said next to nothing. It was as bad as the dragon but in an entirely different way.
Sit ups, wing ups, push ups, lifting. He fed Mordane a steady diet of a foul tasting mush mixed with bugs, ‘for the protein’ until Mordane suggested Jerky instead. The response to which was.
“So you have the stomach for that hmm?” Before jerky bits started being mixed in instead.
Mordane suspected that there must be some kind of drug in the mush. He lost the last of his body fat but gained weight in muscle. Smut wrapped his flank, legs, back muscles and hooves in a tight wrapping. They were supposed to make it where his muscles grew hard and not big. Even so, he still had the last vestiges of the softness of his youth, those of which fell away.
Smut’s punches still felt like being hit by a brick wall though.
Two grueling weeks later, after practice, when Mordane was lying gasping on the floor he said.
“Sufficient.”
Then he dragged him out to the training field. He began sparring with him.
Mordane took to the air but Smut was faster. He kicked down. Driving his hoof across Mordane’s face and into the ground.
Mordane once again thanked the maker that no one was around to see them. The field was secluded as could be. A minor addition to the main training field that was rentable. Smut had purchased up the whole month
“Enough.” Smut said. Mordane dropped to the dirt floor practically heaving. “You can use your wing magic. Kinda. You can also sense through the earth but that is the lowest form of Earth magic. You must pull deeper. Reach down into the deep earth and pull that strength into your body.”
“I*gasp* am trying.” He said “My hooves ache from trying. I feel like a foal again, trying to pull more magic then I can handle.”
“Good. That is your magical paths forming.” He snorted. “Did your wings feel the same?”
“Years ago...but even when I was training with the dragon I felt pain”
“Yes.” Smut peddler said sitting across from Mordane “She was a good teacher for you. To think there is a dragon beneath us. You still surprise me sometimes Mordane.”
Mordane nodded. He rubbed his hooves through his mane before speaking again.
“I don’t mean to question you Smut...but it seems like you are just pushing me through workouts.”
“Aye.” Smut nodded.
“How is that suppose to help me when fighting the champions of the arena?”
Smut snorted. Pulling a canteen off his belt he tossed it to Mordane.
“Because I don’t have enough time to train you properly. You will have to do that in the arena. I can only hammer enough into your body and head so you can make that leap. Jump a few years in training and overcome yourself. That body,” He motioned to Mordane “is a lot stronger than you used to be. If I can get your earth pony magic flowing properly then you just might have a chance to bloom in there.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you die.” Smut peddler shrugged. “My family will be disappointed but it is what it is.”
Mordane’s breath was catching up to him as he took swigs from the canteen. His eyes distant as he thought over what Smut Peddler had said.
“Using the wind or the earth. It's a lot like unicorn magic.” Mordane said. “But it's all about feelings really.”
Smut snorted.
“I only know earth magic. It is its own thing. If you say they feel the same though who am I to disagree?”
“No” Mordane shook his head.“I mean...the magic is a lot like war magic is all.”
Smut Peddler raised an eyebrow.
“War magic is a unicorn spell. Sure an earth pony can use it but it’s not something an earth pony can do on its own.”
“...perhaps.” Mordane took one more swig before standing back up. Smut following him. He readied his stance. Hooves wide and wings flat to the ground, just as Smut had told him.
“Let's go again. This time, try to pull in more strength. Let’s see where you get with two weeks of fighting me.”
The day had come.
Preliminaries were over, the small fights meant to be rid of the weak and those unwilling to fight. Now the stands were filling up. Ponies came to watch as the fights became interesting, more elaborate and even spectacular.
On the day of Mordane’s first fight however, the stands didn’t just rise in number, they were filled to capacity. Then more were let in until no room existed for another soul. Even the pathways were filled with bodies and the sky overhead with clouds. Everyone in the region who could afford a ticket bought one. Including a new rising, blue furred actress named Trixie.
Mordane sat in the room behind the double doors. On all sides guards stood nervously. The famous alicorn had come in and sat an hour before on the cold stone. He bore a black heavy cloak.
It was a simple thing. He thought back to when he had received it two weeks ago
________________________________________________________________________
Claw had come in to see Mordane sitting on the ground. His muscles twitching from exhaustion.
“You look pathetic.”
“Such is the trade off.” Mordane said swallowing. “What is your name by the way?”
“...I am called Claw.”
“I said.” Mordane locked eyes with him. “What is your name? Not what people call you.”
The half pony stood for a moment before dropping the bag on the ground and turning to leave.
“You know words cost nothing.”
“Which is what I measure as your worth.”
Mordane smiled.
“Is that so? Then why not enrich me with your name.”
Claw turned around his claws scratching the stone slightly.
“You usually talk to ponies this way?”
“Just the interesting ones.” Mordane smiled. “So, name?”
“….Charon.”
“Charon huh, where you from Charon?”
“Why do you care?”
Mordane stood up and made his way over to a pot of water before taking a long drink.
“As I said. You are interesting to me.” he came closer “So, where?”
“Herridon.”
Mordane stopped for a moment.
“Interesting.” Mordane said softly. “What brings you here.”
“Work.”
“So you received the job in Herridon.” Mordane smiled “Then came here, long trip.”
“Yes, it was.” Charon said “The king sent me to assist with this competition. I feel it’s a waste of
my talents but…. Why am I telling you this?”
“Don’t know. You seem to be a pent up sort of pony. Now tell me, how is my armor.”
Charon glared at Mordane a bit longer before sighing and picking up the bag.
“It’s just as you asked. Leather, procured from a griffin ship, with iron fastens and steel under plates.”
“Good. I thank you.” He smiled “So your king sent you here. I assume that means he is coming himself?”
“That is classified information.” Claw said lowly.
“And it is my privilege to keep it to myself.” Mordane replied. “Thank you. Now go.”
Mordane turned over in his bed and started to slow his breathing while Charon stood a moment.
Mumbling under his breath the half pony, half dragon left.
______________________________________________________________________________
Mordane smiled. The creature named Charon had given him some interesting ideas. Herridon, after all, was the land of his father. Hearing that the king of that city would be coming this way.
“Welcome fillies and gentlecolts. Welcome to the arena! You have heard his name whispered for months-”
Mordanes ear twitched. His hoof coming to rested on his new sword, a new gift…
______________________________________________________________________________
“Here.” Mordane sidestepped and caught the naked blade that was lazily tossed at him by Smut Peddler.
“What the hell! Be careful!”
“You’re fine. Anyway, take that blade. Its special.”
Mordane looked over the blade as Smut tossed the simple sheath over to Mordane. It was an ordinary steel blade. Hoof strap and pivot for two hoof swings. Short and with a slight curve away from the sharp side. It had the space and thickness for engravings but had none. Mordane looked at Smut with one eyebrow raised.
“Thanks?”
Smut laughed before raising his own blade.
"Thank me later.”
Then he struck.
______________________________________________________________________________
Mordane ran his hoof over a shoulder cut Smut had given him.
“-The scourge of Irona!”
Mordane stood. He felt his heart quicken.
There would be no time to rest or consider. Here he would fly or here he would die.
Outside he heard the roar of the crowd. The hunger for action and muse from a meaningless existence.
“-and here he is the Bloody Commander!”
The doors opened and the crowd roared.
Mordane stepped out into the blinding light. The voices shaking him to his core.
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Updated while i was reading the last..... Neat.
8115078 chapter coming tomorrow as well
Instinct boy, instinct. Magic is all about concentration and calculation, what you're thinking is in the spiritual, the meditative. Now what that "One Eye" fellow showed, is dangerous, it means competitors of his caliber are capable of shunpo, if Mordane can reach that level maybe he too can reach the higher levels of it.
static.comicvine.com/uploads/original/13/134077/4019737-uq-holder-4624337.jpg
8115112 Here was drought and now comes the flood.
Neat. It's great that this story is still updating.
That cliffhangerrrr. Nuuuuuu. :0
Also yay
8115845 tomorrow it comes
How would a pony do push u-wait, do you mean "wing ups"?
8115876
Yayyyyyy!
Eeeeeee! I'm so excited!
In all fairness Stalker did devote a rather large time to being an annoying cunt that refused to leave him alone, spoke in riddles, and refused to actually explain WHY he was doing what he did. Its only natural Mordane ignored Stalker, what with the bad impression he never amended.
And the King seemed nice...ish, at least starting that way. But to basically go from a semi-amicable agreement to having Mordane declared a gladiator slave who must put on show or die is just an asshat move. If you want someone to be a profitable gladiatorial combatant you don't just toss them headfirst into a battle royale deathmatch and expect class-A results!
I can't help but notice how similar the fighting skills of the three brothers (Child Stalker, Smut Peddler, and Shop Lifter) are to the Earth Pillar from Moguera's Savage Skies series.
"Stalker turned back to Mordane sighing, his eyes hardening.
“I saw your fight in the arena. It was pathetic.”
“...I don’t know about pathetic.”
“Didn’t Stalker teach you any hoof to hoof?”
“I...didn’t pay attention, to my regret.”
Peddler slapped him. Mordane fell to the ground, his face throbbing already as Peddler shoved his hoof into his face again. Eyes on fire."
Is he smut or is he stalker?
"Mordane smiled.
“Is that so? Then why not enrich me with your name.”
He was already told his name earlier.
Also there is an inconsistancy with the 'grandparent' Dying as it was originally stated he died when the mc was 16 but he only died 2 years before he got to equestria and you stated he was 25 at the time. That is alot of math to get wrong.
From reborn "Just like all week"
What? This doesnt make a lick of sense, he wasnt fighting all week.
Also you kept reiterating thatfor every 10 one went free and he killed well over 10 by the end of the first round in 'reborn'. Wat.
8978538
Tomorrow I'll reread and refresh myself on the details.
Then if some edits need to be made I'll do it. If though its just a case of not being clear I will try to modify and make it so.
Thank you for bringing it to my attention. Please do so for any other issues you see.
8978538
Thanks for the first catch
Claw isn't his real name. He said 'thats what they call me' His real name is Chareon. Mordane wants him to admit this to him despite already knowing it.
Nah his girlfriend died not his grandpa. I'll make sure of this though. Might be a hold over from an old version. I changed up the ages a bit after awhile.
I don't know what you are referring to here. Can you be clearer.
Very nice! Let's hope he puts up a good show!
He was just over 16 when the Diamond Dogs attacked Ponyville. He told Trixie he was 19 now. Trained by Starswirl’s book, Starswirl’s journal, Star Charmer, Twilight, Stalker, the dragon, Smut, and field experience… I hope those lessons start to sink in, because he’s been getting on with a lot of luck.
And there’s got to be no way that word of his exploits hasn’t crossed the Expanse by now…