Rainbow Dash, the Bearer of Loyalty, is a brave, capable mare. But her loyalty & bravery will be put to the test as she becomes thrust in a time that is not hers, and the fate of a world rests in her hooves.
Rainbow Dash, the powerful mare bearing the Element of Harmony, through an unfortunate and unknown turn of events, finds herself in an entirely different world. But it's not a different world, only . . . a different time.
She finds herself over a thousand years in the past, thrust into a prophecy unknown to her and into a war with the demons of Tartarus, the weight of a world laying weak and quivering in her hooves all the while.
So this is kind of my Magnum Opus right here, I've spent the most time planning it, had the most editors and pre-readers go over it, and I'm pretty sure that I did a good job. So . . . did I?
As I'm sure you know, this universe of ours is vast, endless, gaping. The human mind cannot comprehend the infinite reaches of the inky, unsentimental blackness, speckled with bright stars, galaxies, nebulae...It is both terrifying and wondrous at the same time.
This universe is where our story begins.
Not our story, exactly, but we'll get to that.
Inside the west quadrant of the thirty-second dominion, inside of a galaxy called "Milky Way" and on the third planet from a particularly small star, we reside.
We've been around for a few millennia, growing and advancing in technology whilst simultaneously degrading in our own humanity. Our last day, I'm sure, is speeding toward us, waiting to careen into us like a young soldier trapped on the receiving end of an terrorist's fire.
But this story does not include us, save these past few paragraphs...we're going somewhere else.
Turn due west and take off at a speed seventy-two that of light and you just might make it in a few quintillion years. Leave our God's domain and venture deep within another's, praying that he is merciful and does not strike you down like one would an irritating fly on a hot summer day, travel within the thirty-fourth domain, northeast area, past the Horsehead Nebula, downwards into the Galaxy of the Aether, left, to a massive star known as Angel's Hoof, venture further, to the farthest reaches of the star's light, just out of its reach, and you will stumble upon our setting: A massive planet that should be devoid of life. This is Equis. The nations sprawled atop its surface include Gryphus, Draconia, Boardoar, Stalliongrad, among others. But we are focusing on the largest nation, geographically, militarily, and economically: The Celestial Sister's Democratic Empire of Equestria.
You know this story, yes, my words have summoned it forth, front and foremost in your mind. Thoughts of six mares, their perilous adventures across the continent...
But this is not our time. Turn back the clock a millenia and a half; yes, there. Here we are; the Dark Ages of Equis. What is now known as Equestria is now split into three racial tribes. Ah, you know this one too? Alas, no, you do not.
The story which I am about to tell takes place before even that.
This is the story of a mare, mercilessly torn from her own time and stuffed, rudely, into another, where she will encounter many a foe and forge many new friendships.
She is part of a prophecy.
One that foretells of a strong, powerful mare, one bound by Loyalty, and with a rather unusual mark of destiny emblazoned upon her side; "She-who-will-rise."
The throne room was long and sturdily built with heavy marble pillars and granite blocks. It was dark, damp even, lit by only a hoof-full of torches that cast a pale, wan light over the creeping shadows. Not a single stray ray of sunlight could penetrate the cold, resilient masonry.
At the end, atop an ornate throne of carved ebony with gold inlay depicting great deeds and conquests, itself perched atop a simple pedestal of marble engraved with the names of past Pegasus warlords, sat a muscular stallion clad in dark, gold-inlaid plate armor, which rested on a bed of chainmail. The armor was formed in such a manner as to give off the impression of a musculature that would ripple with power at every step, were it not for the fortitude of wrought skysteel.
His coat was blacker than his ink-colored armor, seeming to suck what little joy that could be found from the air around him. His head was turned downwards, denying all in the room any view of his face. His front hooves grasped a heavy straight bladed sword, bearing a hemispherical oaken hoof-guard, eighty centimeters in length, it’s blade and pommel once more inlaid with images of past conquests. But this inlay was jet black, signifying the scores of enemies who had met their end by the blade. The sword was open and unsheathed, its tip finding purchase in the confines of a deep gouge in the marble. The groove had been worn wide and deep with use, as the pegasus stallion’s blade oft found itself at rest in the smooth cleft in the stone.
On either side of this dark lord stood two guards, their faces as seemingly set in the same stone as their surroundings, their armor similar to that of the Commander’s, but perhaps a less ornate, utilitarian version, sparing the gold inlay only to show the rank of the stallions- Commander Hurricane was not one for frivolities. The guards bore similar swords to their commander’s, but once more sparing any embellishment save for a near blinding polish. They did not move, they barely breathed, indeed, from a distance they seemed little more than lifelike statues. The air in the Commander’s throne room was chilled to below freezing, the constant blizzard never permitting the air to rise above it’s frigid temperature, but only the misting breath of the Commander and his guards gave that away.
The Commander reflected on the recent events of the past few weeks, and came up with surprisingly little that required his attention. There had been no attacks from those damned Rogue Pegasi, no attacks from the Gryphons, and the Dragons were strangely quiet for once. Now that he thought about things, there had been absolutely no attacks or rebellions in the previous weeks whatsoever, which might have been a blessing for the pegasi, had they not been left to rue their lives in the omnipresent cold. Owing to the ruthless efficiency of the pegasi legions, any previous advances on pegasus territory by any of those barbarians had been swiftly and brutally extinguished, and so Commander Hurricane was left alone during this rare lull in the constant war with naught but his silent guards and his thoughts.
Despite the recent unspoken armistice, the situation the pegasi had found themselves in only worsened by the day. The blizzards were getting worse. The Pegasus capital of SkyClad had always been far in the peaks of the mountains, and the cold was always raging, but, indeed, the blizzards were getting worse, despite the monumental attempts of his best weather workers. Relations between the Pegasus race and the other two were only worsening, and Hurricane couldn't help but notice that the food coming from the earth ponies far below in the warm valleys and fields were beginning to get smaller. Only a hair, but still noticeably so. The Commander had opted to ignore this, but if the shipments decreased much more, he would have to take action...
A sudden noise broke the Commander from his musings; he could hear the worn and battered oaken doors grate on their rusty hinges as they swung open. The Commander of the Pegasus race looked up to reveal a hardened face that bore the expression of a stallion who was out of his element, but would not let anypony know. A long, jagged scar had been carved into his face during some long past battle, leaving nothing but dead flesh, a brutalized eye that would never see again, and a long painful history that was best left forgotten. The Commander lived in the present, and right now there was something that most certainly demanded his attention before him.
Through the grand doorway, the eternal blizzard could be seen and felt clearly, as it tried once more to invade the sanctity of the throne room. Everypony present in the room, save the Commander, flinched at the blinding sleet and gale force hail that barraged the room’s occupants. The torches sputtered desperately, their sickly light waning further as they lost yet more energy in their battle to stay alight. The torches nearest the doors hissed in a final act of defiance before finally relinquishing their feeble grasp on life, their death marking an ominous demonstration of the ultimate fate of the different races if the weather failed to change.
One of his soldiers stood in the doorway, his body wracked with shivers, his armor and uniform decrepit and ragged. He wearily wiped his brow with a hoof caked in grime and what seemed to be blood. Hastily snapping to attention, he saluted the Commander and promptly stepped to the side. The Commander frowned inquisitively, looking with interest towards the door. From behind the position the legionary had until recently occupied trudged a vaguely equine figure, but it was impossible to tell for sure under the myriad of oily cloaks and other garments that it wore.
As the lumbering figure stepped over the threshold of the doorway, and into the mildly warmer confines of the throne room, the legionnaire hurried inside as well, snapping to attention once more.
“Report,” The Commander growled, his gravelly rasp like the voice one might expect a monstrous beast to possess. Indeed, many did believe the Commander to be a demon in disguise, such was his demeanor. The guard on the right side of his throne flinched visibly; the Commander spoke so little it was a common occurrence for his guards to forget the primal fear their leader’s voice could instill. The Commander snorted derisively at the guard’s antics, returning his calculating glare to the two figures before him.
“Aye, Commander. I have judged it wise to hide nothing from you, sir; these are matters of great urgency, and now would be a bad time for misinformation.” The Commander nodded appreciatively, an almost imperceptible inclining of his head. “With respect, sir-- our visitor is a, uh, unicorn,” The legionnaire finished his sentence, barely restraining himself from looking to the walls to avert her eyes from the Commander’s piercing gaze.
The Commander felt a searing jolt of red-hot fury lance through him, and the primal urge to flay alive both of the ponies that stood before him coursed through his veins, only just kept in check. Those infernal snobbish unicorns! Decades of training and experience, however, had taught Hurricane to hide his fury without the slightest of traces, save perhaps a slight lowering of his voice. “The first half of your judgment was sound, though I question the latter. Continue.”
“She’s a messenger, Commander. An oracle of sorts, apparently.”
The Pegasus lord chuckled darkly. “Oh? And why is she here?" he asked, despite the direct presence of the unicorn. "We are are but one step away from an all-out war with those holier-than-thous...”
“Sir, the typical unicorn may be snobby, but they have honor; she is here to warn us.”
Commander Hurricane, who had returned his attention to the ground after he gauged the covered-up visitor to be no threat, darted his face upward and glared with red eyes at his subordinate.
“Do not patronize me, boy.” His voice had become dangerously low. It did not take an educated being of any sort to realize the dangerous terrain that the soldier was now standing upon.
“No, sir. Absolutely not, I swear it.”
The hulking Pegasus growled, his sword-hooves twitching. “Name and rank, soldier.”
“Iron Clad, Private.”
“Hm. Now out of my site,” Iron Clad saluted and marched toward the doors, sighing inwardly.
“You. Pompous hag. Come here.” The bundled mare, who had waited patiently thus far, trundled closer. “Speak," came Hurricane's command.
“I come with grave warnings sir; the Unicorns have fallen,” she said in an old, creaky voice.
Hurricane smiled. “Have they,” he chuckled, “Continue.”
“I do not know the specifics, but a rift has been opened. Our queen managed to contain it for a few hours, but . . . she has fallen.”
Hurricane frowned. He often belittled the horned creatures, but he did not underestimate them. They were indeed powerful, especially their rulers. What exactly did the rift loose?
Hurricane voiced his question and the mare chuckled.
“Every demon in Tartarus.”
Commander Hurricane froze, the shard of resentment that had recently cooled to a stone of travesty was suddenly replaced by a long icicle, straight from the deepest reaches of the north. He had fought Gryphons, Dragons, many weaker ponies, Boars, Elk, Zebra, and yes, demons...
But every demon in Tartarus?
The mare cackled, launching a few, sickly blots of spittle onto the floor. Hurricane grimaced. “What is the source of your mirth?”
“I sense your fear, Commander.”
Hurricane ground his teeth. “How to I know that you speak the truth, nag?”
“When demons march against your gate, Commander, and overtake your armies faster than you can run away, your tail tucked between your legs while your bladder empties down its frazzled hairs.”
“Silence!” Hurricane roared. He leaned forward, looking past his blade and directly into the oracle’s eyes. “Know your place, wench, or your blood will stain these walls.”
The mare gave an amused snort.
“Do not worry yourself, Commander; there is hope.”
“We Pegasi are strong, but no-one, perhaps not even the Almighty Aezer, can stand against the hordes of Tartarus itself.”
The wrinkled unicorn smiled. “You are wrong.”
Commander Hurricane sat up straight, releasing his sword, and leaned against the back of his throne. “Tell me.”
“I am an oracle, and I am here to tell you of a prophecy. You will be glad to know that you and your Pegasi will not require the assistance of a separate race to weather this storm.” Hurricane smiled. He was indeed glad to learn of that.
“A Pegasus, a blue goddess, with a mane and tail of rainbow will rise. Her soul, her personality, her very being will be bound with Honor and Loyalty. She will fight alongside you, and she will prevail.”
Hurricane ran his tongue against his teeth in thought.
“Very well,” he eventually stated, “What is her name?”
“That, I do not know, Commander. Regardless, my work here is done.”
As much as Hurricane detested the unicorns, he was indeed grateful to this oracle, though he would never show it.
Begrudgingly, he asked, “Do you need lodging? I can provide-”
“No, no, not my work here; my work overall.”
Commander Hurricane regarded his guest with suspicion. “I know not what you mean.”
“Goodbye, Commander.”
“Wha-?”
The bundle of old cloth exploded in a burst of light and Hurricane raised his sword, bracing himself for impact. Only his helmet’s crest was harmed, however and the assault of light eventually waned.
The eldritch monstrosity leering out from the page of the thick, heavy, and dusty old tome sent a nerve wracking shudder down throughout entire length of Twilight’s spine and rippling out the rest of her body. It may have only been a crude, two-dimensional charcoal sketch, however the text it was swaddled in conjured a small life of it’s own as the hideous images it conjured sprang forth. The monster roared in savage glee as it hurtled over its parchment barrier, devouring Twilight with a motion as casual as breathing or flicking ones tail, marking the beginning of it’s bloodthirsty, ruthless rampage across Equestria.
Again, Twilight shuddered, aghast that such being could even be conceived of in some pony’s or zebra’s twisted mind, let alone actually exist, if in some other plane of existence. . Such monsters were best left sealed in whatever respective hellfire and brimstone choked dungeon they had been condemned to, there was a reason that so many thousands had perished in doing so. But it wasn’t as though merely reading about them to satisfy some darker curiosity could actually do any harm, right? No, Twilight told herself once more, not at all.
With a freshly steeled resolve, Twilight’s eyes lunged back down towards the page and her eyes darted back and forth, ravenously devouring all they could lay themselves upon, and soon finished it. She turned the page eagerly, unveiling a new beast of Tartarus, however this time the bookish mare was prepared, and the fresh abomination remained locked within its parchment prison, where it rightfully belonged.
Again, again, and again, Twilight greedily leafed through page after page. Voraciously flying through the ancient tome- deeper, deeper, still deeper Twilight immersed herself, learning of the revolting monsters locked deep within the abysmal, flaming confinements of Tartarus. She learned of their deeds also, ones that inspired awe, horror, fear, and even hatred. Mortem, who fed off of the misery of souls as he took the lives of their loved ones . . . Nemesis, the creature who stood for no being higher than he . . . Cthulhu, the beast, the monster of greed, and the devourer of worlds . . . and worst of all, Man, whose deeds numbered so great, so despicable and vile, that the book wasted no breath in even attempting to decipher them in their entirety.
But every single one of these soulless, heartless, sadistic monstrosities, and the countless lesser demons, were defeated, one after the other, by her. Again, she turned the page in anticipation. Twilight smirked. There, depicted soaring majestically in the the azure fields of the heavens, atop a swarm of cowering demons, smiling with a serene assurance, was a mare who seemed possessed of all the gifts the gods could offer a mortal being- and then some. There was naught but speculation as to her true colors, and the myths varied as much as the colors themselves; bedazzling electrum, to pure iridescent gold, and, the least flattering but perhaps most sensible, the entire spectral range of the rainbow.
Twilight was jolted from her thoughts as the door, flung open without any warning, crashing against the adjacent wall resoundingly. The startled librarian whirled around, wings flared, ready to carry her away if needed. For a moment she tensed as a silhouette emerged, but a warm smile soon took hold in place of her previous one of confusion.
“Rainbow Dash!” She heartily greeted, relievedly wiping her brow as subtly as she could manage.
“Yeah, hey Twilight,” the visitor mumbled, idly scuffing her hoof on the floor, glancing away bashfully.
Twilight frowned perplexedly; Rainbow wouldn't make eye contact - which was highly unusual for the brash mare. However, she then recalled why Rainbow was in her library at all if it wasn't to return a book, and a knowing smirk tugged at the corners of her mouth.
“Rainbow, there’s no need to be bashful, it’s perfectly natural for a mare to want to improve, especially you!”
“It’s still embarrassing. . .” Rainbow trailed off, averting her eyes once more.
Twilight shook her head, exasperated, and decided to divert her friend’s attention, if only for a minute.
“Guess who I found?” Twilight trilled in a singsong voice, gesturing towards the open book which had, until moments ago, been the site of another study session. Rainbow slowly ambled her way across the threshold of Twilight's home, and her host gently closed the door behind her, shutting out the gentle breeze.
"Who? . . . ." Rainbow asked warily as she trotted over to the open book in the center of the floor amid the maelstrom of rumpled and depressed pillows interspersed with books and what looked like the remains of more than one attempt at cooking. Twilight didn't answer, instead opting to let Rainbow see for herself. As Rainbow crossed over to the indicated tome, she casually flopped next to it, laying her eyes on the yellowed and age battered page in question. Rainbow gave a half-hearted grin, sighing slightly as she did so, "Ah."
"Yup." Twilight beamed.
Rainbow lapsed into silence, keeping her slight smile, her mind filled with images and visions of the mare only she and Twilight knew of. The unshakable nigh-demigod crudely sketched upon the page, who seemed so similar to Rainbow.
"You know, Rainbow, I'm a bit surprised; I was sure a pony like yourself would be at least a bit boastful about looking so much like the legendary 'Mist Warrior', it does seem like something you might do."
Rainbow let her attention linger on the descriptions and depictions of her ancient look-alike, but spoke to Twilight as she did so, clarifying: "Well, she is known mostly to the Pegasi, and the legends of her are pretty old . . . ."
Twilight shook her head in defeat - Rainbow Dash, strongly resembling an ancient legend and not mentioning it even once? It was so unlike her . . . .
The battle lost, Twilight instead brought up the reason for Rainbow’s coming in the first place.
"So, Dash, I've got that potion finished." mentioned Twilight in a manner that suggested it was simply an extra, not as though it were the entire reason for Rainbow to be at her library at that time.
Rainbow Dash frowned and pursed her lips, glancing towards Twilight inquisitively. "Where is it?"
"I've got it right here," Twilight assured her, magically floating a corked flask from somewhere in the room and passing it over to Rainbow.
"Just two doses a day, each just a mouthful, for a few weeks and then you won't be needing glasses anymore."
Rainbow Dash thanked her friend and Princess, a shade of scarlet creeping up her face as she did so, and left via a window left open by Spike to assure Twilight didn’t suffocate in book dust.
Rainbow, relieved that her harrowing ordeal was over, began to sail toward home, the usual ecstatic rush that she felt whilst flying replaced by thoughts of the the strange mare in Twilight's book. Twilight had easily deduced that she and Rainbow looked similar, but what Twilight didn't know was that, according to Rainbow's father's mother one chilly winter night snuggled next to her, she and the Mist Warrior were in fact related. This was a topic of slight controversy among the Dash Clan, because one side, her father's, were believers of their lineage, whilst her mother's side believed the ancient mare herself a myth, and thus Rainbow's supposed relation to any ancient heroes was rendered moot. As a matter of fact, Rainbow's parent's story bore a slight similarity to the quintessential Romeo & Juliet, save the tragic ending. Her two families were not always on the most amiable of terms. Rainbow Dash herself knew not what to believe. Of course, if her grandmother was correct, that was pure, refined awesome, but Rainbow wasn't too sure. That, among other reasons, was why she usually kept quiet about any relations, factual or fictitious, to the Legendary "Mist Warrior."
Rainbow's thoughts waned slightly, but never ceased utterly, as her attention shifted to the upcoming dark mass on the horizon that was her home, and she gently landed upon the front porch, little puffs of moisture enveloping her hooves and fetlocks as she did so, the sun just touching the horizon as she did so.
Unlocking the front door, Rainbow glanced at the time and decided to turn in early. She had the day off tomorrow, and getting to sleep earlier than usual would mean less sleep tomorrow and more free time.
It wasn't long before she found herself comfortably ensconced in her voluminous bed, sleepily grinning in comfort- cloud beds were amazing. Her thoughts, unfortunately, persistently denied her leave from the world of the living until much later than she had hoped, but the cerulean mare was indeed asleep within the hour.
The dream started out normal enough. In fact, it was a bit too normal; it seemed to be, in essence, a simple recap of her time at the Golden Oak's Library. The only thing different was the sound. Everything was . . . everything seemed to be trying not to be heard. The voices, the creaking of the branches, the hoof-steps, they all echoed and lazily pooled around Rainbow's head, eddying and bubbling like a tranquil little stream.
It was when she eventually took her leave through the window that things changed.
The world outside the library clearly was not Ponyville. The buildings, it seemed, had been superseded by broad expanses of green fields, the tall patchwork grass reaching up and brushing the turbulent sky. But it was abnormal. The flatness was unnerving, and it extended onwards and for infinity. As Rainbow cautiously glanced over her shoulder, she saw that even Twilight's library had vanished.
Rainbow persisted in flying onwards, and gradually, the coarse weeds and grass began to grow lusher and thicker. Replacing the scraggly brush with wild, overgrown verdant fields. The sky’s hue slowly darkened, becoming stale, diluted, streaked with smoke and sooty clouds. An acrid stench permeated the air, a pungent amalgamation of smoke, metal, and other odors that Rainbow could not identify.
Rainbow’s world imploded, her vision jolted a million different directions, her body shunted from the air and catapulted violently, without remorse, into the packed soil. Something had hit her. Hard.
Rainbow's vision was tinged with spots, blurring into a dreary darkness, the noise of the world around her became distorted and patchy. Fragments of memories forced their way to the surface of her subconscious.
"This one is new . . . ." a pompous voice, one brimming over with pride and greed, sadistically hissed in glee at Rainbow’s pain. His voice staticky, crackling in the darkness.
"Yes. Where did she come from? Her coloration is rather, unique . . . ." ruminated a second, more solid, thoughtful and even refined voice.
And then, with a heaving gasp, Rainbow Dash awoke. But it was not the welcoming and familiar walls of cloud that greeted her eyes, assuming what lay before her could be considered a greeting.
The odd smells from the night prior were multiplied by tenscore, the burning stenches forcing their way into Rainbow's nose like a full on buck from Applejack focused on a cold chisel, driving away the last vestiges of sleep and punting her fully into wakefulness. Rainbow retched, emptying her stomach of it’s contents, heedless of where it landed. She moaned, a hoof flopping into the puddle of vomit on the ground, the puke matting her mane and streaking her coat.
The fetid odors saturating the air reeked of rotten, burning flesh, the tang of metal, fire, and smoke. Her world was hot and stuffy, a burning cesspit with her in the center, covered in her own vomit. All she could sense was an indiscriminate blur, withholding not only information, but freedom as well, the denial hemming her in, caging the pegasus lying sprawled helplessly.
Voices wormed their way into Rainbow's consciousness, and soon two pairs of hooves, their grip as hard and unrelenting as iron seized her, and began dragging her off to Celestia knew where. Rainbow reacted on pure instinct, gnashing, kicking, and struggling feebly, her thoughts still hampered by the clinging stupor of unconsciousness. The humdrum voices cleared, as did Rainbow's eyesight, just enough to faintly discern her surroundings, with enough time to spare to see and process the blunt butt of a spear speeding towards her skull.
"I'll pulverize your skull into dust, mix it with your blood, and use it to jack myself off!" the rather crude Pegasus bellowed at his opponent, who was visibly shaking with fear.
"And when I'm done, I'll squirt down your headless, gaping throat!"
The other pegasus was sweating now, but still holding his own with the little gladius he called his own.
Sgt. Scar, however, weilded his massive spiked warhammer with terrifying speed and power, bellowing vulgar curses and threats all the while while his matted beard flopped and his blind eyes bulged.
Who knew a blind Pegasus could be so utterly terrifying and capable?
Not Iron Clad.
Iron made the mistake of trying to fool Scar with a feint, and that lead to a dent in his armor and a minor concussion. Training, for now, was over, and Iron went off to the nearest Inn outside the fortress walls to try and drown the headache in liquor; the harshest possible.
He stumbled inside and ignored the laughter of some of the other Pegasi and sat at the bar. Wordlessley, Iron pointed with his hoof and received a pint of the inkeeper's homemade Crater Mud. Really a vile mixture, but damn was it strong. It took three pints, but soon Iron, almost dead, went out into a nearbye alley and fell into a sleep. Safe, he knew; Pegasi do not rob one another. Simple fact.
"Riadgh iadgar biadkiadt, riadk gokar ri!" came a hushed voice. The sheer gutteral, rough, hideous nature of whatever that was could wake even the sleepiest of Northern Giants.
"Dak, sheeah bgokarsruthánt tléirkiad; ik vill chgokulsr uthánb ib!"
But as ugly as the tongue was . . . it seemed vaugly familiar to Rainbow Dash.
"Jee, jee, jee; rléirk glak chléirk gogihn!"
"Bléirgarléirgh."
"Vléirtho'sruthángh!"
"Dak."
Ah. Her great granfather Vista. He was a linguistics expert at Cloudsdale College. He spoke thirty-one different languages. His absolute favorite, was Old Pegasus.
Once, Rainbow had been interested in it, but when Vista had spent the entirety of one day trying to teach her, the sheer complexity and harshness of it hurt her brain. Every word had a hundred variants, each longer and more complex to pronounce. The Equish tongue normally utilized the front of the mouth, but the Pegasus Old Tongue used front, middle, and back of the mouth, as well as several clicks and ticks and grunts. It was absolutely ridiculous, and Rainbow went home with a migrane.
Her eyes bolted open.
Above her, was the yellow cloth of canvas. She was in a bag.
"Hey!" she cried, and immiately began thrashing again.
"Braster; braster, braster, braster—vsekh!"
"Let me outta here!" Rainbow cried, tearing the thick canvas at last. But not before two sets of hooves got to her. Rainbow cried out in pain as her mane was yanked from the top of the bag, her head coming with it.
She got a very up-close and personal look at an angry brown stallion, spittle dripping from his nasty teeth and his large eyebrows furrowed, a sivler helm with a yellow plume on his head.
"Lladd töte léir sie!?" he threatened through his grit teeth.
"Oi, oi, oi," said the other stallion, whom Rainbow could not turn her head to see.
"Lawr veshk, lawr veshk."
The stallion hurting Rainbow curled his lip and threw her back into the solid wooden wagon.
Rainbow, despite herself, felt tears of pain, fright, and utter confusion trickle down her cheeks.
She was very obviously going to die, or worse.
Suddenly, the other staillion, gray and blue, this time but with the same armor, floated into the wagon with her, and she saw that he was a pegasus.
Rainbow shrunk away.
"Oi," said the blue stallion, "Oi—Heye, yov speake onlli Equish?"
Rainbow's eyes widened, and she nodded, feeling a blossom of hope in her breast.
"Do naght be afrayed; you wille bicome safe."
The blue stallion spoke his Equish very airily, with an accent, and prounced every syllable like he was very insistent that the big Bouncer let him inside the club, as he was very rich and very important.
"Where am I?" Rainbow rasped.
The blue stallion frowned. "Wee are neare SkyClad, the capitol of the Pegasus Tribe."
Rainbow sat and processed. It was like she had been transported back to the Medieval times long before Celestia or Luna ever came to be. Not impossible, given the world she lived in, but if that were true, she was completey screwed; and it happened for no reason.
No, she decided that, instead, these stallions were crazy.
"Waddaya need me for?"
"Wee are takinge yov too Commander Hurricane. Wee shalle be inn a grande felaweshipe, eh?"
Rainbow let herself sink. She was far too weak and in pain to try and deal with this now. She decided, quite irrationally, that she would go back to sleep and deal with everything when she woke up. Or perhaps this was all a nightmare brought on by Twilight's potion, and she would wake up in her cloud home in a few hours.
![http://www.whidc.org/festival/img/gif/swordwrap.gif[/img]](http://www.whidc.org/festival/img/gif/swordwrap.gif[/img]){kind=link}