> Party of One Thousand
>  by ThatCanadianDude
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Party of One Thousand
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Dear Ms. Pinkamena Diane Pie;

I hope my letter finds you in good health. I have heard that you are Equestria’s premier party planner, and I wish to make use of your particular skills.

I will not lie; the party I am requesting of you is no normal party. However, I trust you are willing to hear me out in my entirety before you decide whether or not to assist me.

I am planning a soirée deep within the Everfree Forest, an obvious logistical problem, for one thousand guests, clearly more than you are used to. However, if even a quarter of the anecdotes I've heard of your work are true, then this should be a piece of cake for someone of your caliber.

Your budget will be unlimited, provided you allow me the privilege of assisting someone of your skill in the preparation and execution of this gathering. I promise you that with your skills, I am sure this will be a party the likes of which Equestria will never forget.

If you are interested, meet me at the edge of the Everfree Forest tonight. Do not worry about locating me. I will find you.

~N.

The letter was correct. The location was ludicrous, and the numbers were more so. But the potential of a party of such magnitude, a party beyond all other parties, was too much for Pinkie Pie to ignore.

And so it was with this thought in mind that Pinkie Pie made her way to the edge of the Everfree Forest that night, carrying behind her a wagon full of party favors and enough tables to seat as many ponies as was conceivably possible. Her typical bounce in her step brought her right up to the forest’s edge, where she stopped and glanced about for her mysterious patron.

The darkness made the already foreboding woods seem all the more sinister, and ominous defiance of the laws that governed the realities of Equestria. This never really bothered Pinkie, though. The seemingly random nature of the forest’s flora and fauna meant that it was constantly a new place to explore, with nary a single branch or squirrel in the same place twice. The darkness merely meant that the surprises would be more plentiful, unable to be glanced from far off. 

It was perhaps this lack of distance and light that allowed the pony she had been waiting for to sneak up behind her with such silence as to not even wake Fluttershy. He was a strange individual. He stood a good head taller than the average stallion, and yet was kept aloft on slender legs that seemed almost too thin to support his weight. His coat was, to the best of Pinkie’s knowledge, a deep black; though she confessed to herself it could have simply been the poor lighting hiding the colour. His mane was fashioned into long, thick strands, and the ends were seemingly died a bright, green colour that almost seemed to glow in the darkness. The same green could be found on the ends of his similarly styled tail, as well as in his slender hooves. A long, thin goatee, tipped off in the same green, hung from his chin.

Unlike most ponies, this one had his own particular clothing style. Pinkie couldn’t help but admire a stallion who dressed up for the occasion. On his head, he wore a small fez of a dark brown material, which sat slightly forward on top of his mane. On his body was a similarly dark brown dress suit, sans sleeves, with a black tie neatly tucked in. The suit’s lapels played host to a chain, crossing over the stallion’s chest, linking to a small black cape, barely covering the front of the tail. On the cape was a large collar that covered a good half way up the back of his neck, framing a small grin. Perched atop his muzzle was a small pair of greenish sunglasses, obscuring his gaze entirely in the darkness.

He introduced himself as Mr. N, a dignitary of some renown from a land far beyond the borders of Equestria. He spoke in a deep, soothing tone, dignified in his word choice, yet bouncy in his inflections. He told her how her name had reached his ears while journeying through the country, and realized she would be perfect for the get-together he wished to plan. Pinkie was the best in the business, they had said, and to pull off what would most certainly be the largest party Equestria had ever seen (and still significantly larger than his home had seen, Mr. N was quick to mention), only the best would suffice. As he spoke, he made small gestures with his hooves, the purpose of which was difficult to interpret, though Pinkie dismissed as the simple quirks of a stallion from lands beyond. As he finished, he motioned towards the Everfree Forest, and request Ms. Pie join him as he scouted the woods for a perfect location for his party. Pinkie, in all her cheery enthusiasm, agreed immediately.

As the two made their way into the Everfree Forest, Pinkie began to regale Mr. N with her ideas and plans for making the party as ‘super-dee-duper-rific’ as possible. She also would occasionally jump in front of him, asking him questions. A question of where he was from was met with a simple response of being from somewhere far beyond the barriers of the kingdom. An inquisition as to the guests of the party received a response of them simply being family and friends, a part of the bigger whole of who he was. The asking of what food they would want received a small chuckle and a pat on the head, as Mr. N said not to worry as the guests would be bringing their own food. All the while, Pinkie weaved in and out of the Everfree Forest’s many trees and undergrowth, watching in surprise as Mr. N walked along with nary any difficulty. She attempted to follow behind him, but found that while he had no problems, she found herself still needing to duck and weave to get through. The only logical conclusion, Pinkie thought, was that he was magic-ing his way through the woods, and his fez must contain some sort of unicorn horn.

It was after a long and tortuous trek that the two ponies came upon an empty clearing. The clearing was roughly a half-mile wide, and just as long. Along the back edge, way off in the distance, was a cliff side, overshadowing the clearing from some untellable height. Tall trees, some reaching up to fifty feet, surrounded the clearing on all sides.

Mr. N announced that this field would be the place for their soirée. He turned to face Pinkie, raising a hoof to indicate the field, and told her to work her magic. The party was to be the following evening, and he knew she would so loath to leave his guests with anything less than the best of get-togethers. 

With the go-ahead given, Pinkie sprung into action. Much to Mr. N’s amusement, all the tables where set up in record time by one singing pink pony. The amount she had brought was quite surprising; one hundred tables, each large enough for ten ponies. As they were set, she sprinkled each with a mixture of streamers and confetti, before placing plates and utensils to what could only be described as some sort of catchy melody that even Mr. N had to admit he had no clue where it was coming from. Within three minutes, the vast plane was covered in decorated tables.

It was then that Pinkie sheepishly admitted requiring a few more items from back in Ponyville. If she needed to procure anything back from town, Mr. N replied, she was free to, but he would remain here and make some minute adjustments and preparations for the guests. As he spoke, a small brown bag, filled almost to bursting, floated out of the pocket of his suit jacket. He lamented that he hadn't yet been able to procure some of the local currency, so in its stead, he had brought some pieces of gold from his homeland. He hoped the golden nature would be enough to make up for his lack of bits at the moment. He assured Pinkie that there would be exactly enough to pay for what was needed; no more, no less. Pinkie simply chuckled at the strange comment before taking the bag and making her way back towards home.

Upon returning to Ponyville, the sun had started to come up, and a few shops had started to open. Pinkie already knew what she needed; a collection of party-animal style balloons, a couple hundred dozen paper cups, and the Cake’s back stock of cupcakes for the next week. Jingling the gold purse given to her by her benefactor, Pinkie began her shopping spree.

She visited the rubber makers, the paper plant, and her home, Sugar Cube Corner. She bought what she needed in bulk, paying them with the gold provided by Mr. N. The shopkeepers were a little confused at taking payment in non-official currency, but Pinkie was a friend, and to all of them, one of their best customers. While the slightly-off whiteness of the pieces of gold was somewhat concerning, the reveal of the patron’s foreign origins placated any questions, the whiteness dismissed as a quirk of foreign goldsmithing.

But even with all of what she needed, there was still some gold in the purse. Mr. N had, apparently, accidentally given Pinkie Pie more money than she needed. She was prepared to take this information and additional bits back to him when something caught her eye. On the corner, fiddling with a deck of cards, decked out in a top hat, cape, and white spats on his hooves was a red unicorn performing magic tricks. Pinkie bounded over, watching as cards were picked, minds where red, and rabbits were pulled out of hats, applauding louder than any other pony present. When the show ended, Pinkie bounced over. Offering him every last bit of gold she had in her bag, she asked him to come out to the Everfree Forest that evening to perform for the party. The magician was a little surprised at this sudden approach, but the money seemed good, so he humbly agreed. Pinkie couldn't deny that she felt a bit bad for spending the last of Mr. N’s generously given money, but he had told her she had exactly enough for what she needed, no more, no less.

It was with her trademark bounce in her step that Pinkie made her way back into the darkness of the Everfree Forest. Behind her, in a wagon retrieved from home, were enough balloons, cups, and cupcakes to satisfy over a million party guests, or so Pinkie’s bubbly enthusiasm told her. The path was winding and difficult to follow, but she was sure she was on the right path, though she could not place her hoof on exactly why.

As she continued on the long trek alone, Pinkie couldn't help but cease much of her bouncing, both out of fatigue, and out of a lingering sense that something was watching her. She kept an eager eye out for whatever it may be, but could find nothing until she saw the slight glow of the clearing in the distance.

As Pinkie emerged into the clearing, she was halted for a moment. She stared in confusion at the tables, many of which had been placed in a seemingly random pattern. Some tables has been pushed together, forming odd lines of tables. Yet others had been strewn about far away from any other tables, like small islands adrift in the sea. How in Celestia’s name would ponies be able to socialize like this?

While pondering the strangeness, Pinkie failed to notice the setting sun until darkness settled over the clearing. Pinkie blinked a few times, attempting to adjust her eyes to the darkness, but to no avail. Looking up, Pinkie was shocked to note that not a single star, nor the moon itself, was casting it’s light down on the clearing.

Pinkie stood for a moment in the darkness, wondering what was happening, when a small light appeared. As it came closer, Pinkie could barely make out the shadowy face of Mr. N, carrying a small gas lantern. He held it out towards Pinkie in offering. Still unnerved by the sudden loss of light, Pinkie took it, holding it close. At this point, Mr. N spoke.

He had a request of Pinkie; he wanted her to be the welcoming party. It was her job to greet the guests and make them feel welcome. Mr. N had graciously set up a podium near the entrance to the clearing, on which was a guest book that he wished for each guest to sign. Pinkie merely had a few rules to follow. The first was that she always sat with the light on, which Mr. N said was to allow the guests to find the party more easily. Second was to always extinguish the light whenever a guest came close, for many of his guests were sensitive to light. Finally, and this, he stressed, was the most important one, Pinkie was to never read the guest book. It was for Mr. N’s personal records only.

Pinkie blinked a few times, averting her gaze to stare into the light for a moment. She inquired as to who wouldr set up the remainder of the party favors. The response was the sound of her wagon moving around her towards where the shadowy outline of Mr. N stood, followed by a reassurance that he would handle it, and that all she needed to worry about now was greeting the guests. Pinkie smiled weakly, happy that she was about to be useful for the party, but a niggling feeling in the back of her mind stopped her from being too excited.

After finding her way to the clearing’s entrance and seating herself at the aforementioned pedestal, Pinkie placed the lantern down. The light it gave off was rather pathetic, and Pinkie doubted it could be seen from any more than half way down the clearing. The light was barely powerful enough to illuminate pedestal it sat on, and the large book on it. Pinkie found her eyes drawn to the book. It was an old looking tome, bound in a brown, off-puttingly familiar substance. The cover lacked any decoration, but there was an odd foreboding air about it, and Pinkie knew she would easily be able to pick it out, even without a specific detail to latch onto.

It was while admiring the book that Pinkie began to hear hoofsteps approaching the clearing. Remembering the request, she quickly extinguished the lantern, plunging the book, the pedestal, and herself into complete darkness. She sat in silence as the figure approached. In the darkness, she couldn't make out much about it, but judged from the sounds that it was a larger pony. As the sound approached the pedestal, she greeted the entity with her typical chipper enthusiasm and asked it to sign the guest book, propping it open for pony. After a moment of silence, Pinkie heard the sound of scribbling, followed by the pony moving on into the clearing without so much as a word. Pinkie wished it a good time at the party before quietly closing the book, before remembering to flip the lantern back on. Once again, with the book closed, Pinkie sat in the dim light while awaiting the next guest.

And so the pattern continued to repeat itself for what seemed like hours. Pinkie would sit in silence, comforted only by the 
slight light of the lantern, only for said comfort to vanish as noises from the forest indicated a new guest. Sometimes, the sound was hoofsteps. A few times, the sounds were of the flapping of wings. At least once, the sound was something Pinkie had no interest in identifying, secretly glad for the lack of light, though she remained polite in requesting its signature. But through it all, she couldn’t shake the feeling of rudeness; despite greeting every guest, not a single one had greeted her in return, and it was getting on her nerves. It didn’t help that, while she listened, she could only hear occasional grunts and slithers, and not much of her typical signs of a fun, exciting party.

A thought crossed Pinkie’s mind; perhaps if she knew the names of the present guests, she could begin to intermingle, make some new friends, and get this party started. Sure, she wouldn't be able to attach names to faces right away, but it had never stopped her before. She considered it a fun guessing game. She looked across at the guest book. Mr. N had requested that she not read it, but with how dark the clearing was, she was sure he wouldn't be noticed. Besides, it was all in the name of fun. Surely she could be forgiven. She was the party planner after all. 

Pinkie placed a hoof on the edge of the book, where she has opened it each time previous. The cover was slightly warm, a sign of her repeated touching. For some reason, with the lantern still on, looking at her hoof on the cover caused the pit in her stomach to return, harsher than before. For a short moment, she considered pulling her hoof back, leaving it closed and continuing to sit in silence. However, her desire to bring joy to the party guests was too great. With a quick motion, the book was opened for Pinkie to see.

There was a moment of silence as Pinkie took in the opened pages. The paper was bone dry and coloured a sickly yellow from age. The pages had a slight curve to them as if they had several ages worth of use. The pages felt incredibly brittle to the touch,, but some force kept the book intact. The thoughts of this, however, were all an attempt to keep her mind off the writing for a moment.

As she glanced over the words, she could feel her heart begin pounding. Something was wrong. A guest book shouldn't look like this. The words... or rather, the word... she couldn't recognize it, but it was there, repeated, over and over, in all its unnatural lettering. They seemed written by different creatures, but it was always the same word. Something about the word, however, seemed to speak to Pinkie. Somewhere, deep inside, she felt. A primal fear that sat in the heart of all ponies. Pinkie’s mouth hung open, unconsciously trying to say the word, as if to see if its sound would somehow drown out the pounding of her heart in her eardrums.

“N.... Ny...”	

The lettering felt unnatural on her tongue, twisting her lips into forms that no pony had probably spoken in eons, if ever. She felt like she was about to commit a sin with words alone, and yet she couldn't stop herself. It had to be said, if only to prove to her own mind what she was reading.

But before she could even finish the first syllable, a raspy moan came from behind her. Pinkie shot up, slamming the book closed. In her stunned silence, she had failed to pay attention to whether or not guests were still coming. She turned slowly, a smile back on her face as she tried to hide her actions, eyes squeezed shut from her grin. As she began her greeting, she opened her eyes. However, as she did, her eyes beheld the guest before her, and she felt her words die in her throat as her smile quickly retreated. The lamp was still on, and now she could see what she was dealing with, dimly lit though it may be.

The guest before her looked like no pony, no creature, no nothing Pinkie had ever previously seen. A pillar, five feet tall and two feet in diameter, made of intertwining black tentacles, some of which almost seemed to have lives of their own, stood in front of Pinkie, the raspy wheezing coming from one of its many maws, glistening with sharp teeth. As the maddening image sank into Pinkie’s eyes, she opened her mouth to scream, only for the... guest to beat her to the punch, opening each of its mouths in a cacophony of horrific screeching at the pony.

Pinkie turned rapidly with the intent to run as far away from the horrible… thing as she could. However, in her panic, her hoof knocked over the lantern. The sound of shattering glass barely registered over the screams, and Pinkie was left in the darkness. Her panicked steps didn't last as she felt a sharp, piercing pain in her rear hoof. She winced in pain, falling backwards. With a loud thud, Pinkie smashed her head into the podium. While it wasn't enough to knock her out, Pinkie found herself unable to continue running between the pain the and dizziness. She listened in stunned silence as the guest’s bellows slowly quieted down to the same wheezing groans that had occurred earlier. She listened as it quietly slinked off into the clearing, leaving Pinkie in a shaken state. She was injured, in pain, and quite afraid to move for fear of attracting attention once again.

As the pain in Pinkie’s head ebbed into a dull throb, she took a moment to breath deeply, attempting to regain some control of herself. Wincing one again, she reached for her back hoof. Touching it, she felt a trickle of warm liquid. Blood, she thought. She bit her lip, silently cursing the burning pain and the darkness that kept her from reaching down and removing the offending shard. She touched around, attempting to use her own nerves to locate the source, eyes closed in pain. After a moment, she felt she had it, and did her best to grip it with her front hooves, slowly working it out. The pain caused her bite her lip harder, wanting desperately not to make any noise and attract the attention of any more of Mr. N’s guests.

With a sickening sucking noise, the offending shard was pulled out. Opening her eyes, she glanced down at it. The shard was slightly curved, and the red liquid slowly dripped from it, joining other drops of her blood on the dirt. She was glad it had been removed, and yet a small worry niggled at the edge of her mind. It took her all of five seconds to realize what was wrong.

In this darkness, she shouldn't be able to see the outline of the shard, let alone her own blood on it.

Raising her head, the truth was made clear; for some unknown reason, Pinkie could see perfectly fine in the pitch black darkness. The podium beside her was as clear as day, and she could count each individual shard lying on the ground, and see each drop of blood her hoof had left behind. She closed her eyes, attempting to leave the strange vision behind, but her eyelids did nothing. Her mind itself could see everything around her, and her eyes had nothing to do with it anymore.

She shook her head, trying to get this bizarre sight-that-was-not-sight to leave her, but to no avail. It was then that her new-found vision glanced something else; the guests. She looked out over the party she had planned, the tables she had set-up, and the guests she had greeted and stared in silence.

The party was quite an… interesting one, with creatures of all shapes and sizes standing around, conversing with one another, eating meals and drinking punch, and generally having a quiet soiree. However, it was the contents of the meals, the substance of the punch, and the horrific imagery of the guests themselves that terrified Pinkie. Mr. N had apparently graced the tables with his guests preferred meals, as they ate without hesitation. No one entity on the tables was fully identifiable, but Pinkie could swear she could make out a hoof on one of the tables, behind a large pony she could barely identify. It shifted its neck, revealing that, in place of a head, it had a single, long read tentacle, which violently stabbed into the assumed hoof before pulling out of Pinkie’s sight.  At another table, a pony made entirely of muscle and sinew, as though its skin had been torn away, looking over the table with a fiendish grin on its face, though whether this was conscious effort or simply the result of no lips was not a question Pinkie wished to ask. At yet another table, a hideously bloated mare stood, with tentacles wrapping themselves around... something Pinkie refused to identify, using one of her five gaping maws to suck an unsettling grey matter from it. Flying above the entire thing was a bizarre bat like creature, behind which trailed an unnatural bubbling protoplasm. When it turned in Pinkie’s direction, she could see a burning three lobed eye. She could feel it staring at her, and she knew that it knew she could see it...

Slowly, Pinkie began to laugh. The imagery began to sink into her mind. The guests – they were still guests, after all – had all come to this party dressed up for the occasion. It made sense. The darkness, the bizarre nature of everypony’s appearance. It was a costume party. Pinkie’s laughter continued as she began to rise. How foolish she had been to be so scared of their appearance. What a poor party planner she’d been. She began to move towards the guests, limping slightly from the pain in her rear hoof. Hopefully, she could find the guest she had so rudely ran from and apologize for her behavior. Then, she could join the party proper.

As she walked amongst the hordes, she found new guests to admire; a very large pony dressed like the Sphinx’s of far off lands with a painstakingly finished mask of stars that seemed to move on their own, a smaller pony with four front hooves made to look incredibly realistic along with the three tentacles where his hind hooves should be, and a floating red and blue vein-covered jellyfish of some sort where just some of the many wonderful costumed guests the party had attracted. Pinkie would have to ask where they got their work done so that she and her friends would look their best for next Nightmare Night.

She began to intermingle with the guests. They had all brought their own novelty foods; a hoof here, a head there. It was all very delightful. The red tentacled gentlecolt even offered her a bit, but she had politely refused. It would be rude to take a guest’s food, after all. For what seemed like eternity, she spent time with the many wonderful guests. One thousand in all, she thought. The bloated mare showed her an amusing trick with a fan that allowed her to appear to be half the size she truly was, to which Pinkie applauded graciously. The skinned one regaled her with tales of strange, two legged beings who had worshiped him, performing sacrifices wherein fellow two-leggeds had their skin removed and worn as a coat, to which Pinkie scoffed at the idea of such a race of two legged beings. Even the poor multi-mouthed guest she had been so rude to was quick to forgive her, as Pinkie joined it in singing some strange song from its many mouths. Pinkie didn't recognize the lyrics, but it had a catchy beat, so she sang along as best she could.

By this point, Pinkie had truly gotten into the spirit of the party, and it was to her dismay that a sudden hush came over the crowd. Peering around, she caught the sight of somepony familiar to her. He still had the same slender appearance and dark coat, but his outfit had changed. Mr. N now sported a Great Pharaoh’s headdress, adorned in gold and jewels enough to make a king envious. His sunglasses were gone, showing a pair of piercing green eyes, that went very well with his fiendish grin. His goatee had also been encased in a golden wrap, matching the tone of the headdress. He looked stunning, Pinkie thought. A true party thrower like him deserved to look his finest, she giggled to herself.

He beckoned Pinkie towards himself. As she approached, he held something aloft in front of Pinkie. She gazed at it, in all its splendor; a lavishly decorated and exquisitely made chef’s knife. Gemstones encrusted the handle, and the blade itself looked sharper than anything Pinkie had used before. It was beautiful. Slowly, it moved down to Pinkie before coming to rest just in front of her. She gazed upon it in awe. It was at this point that Mr. N spoke.

“Ms. Pie, I thank you for your wonderful service in bring my party to life. We are very pleased with your work. No party is complete without a cake, however… and we wish for you to have the honor of cutting it.”

Taking the knife in her hoof, Pinkie admired the fine craftsmanship, feeling the weight on her hoof as she turned it over to admire both sides. Intricate symbols were carved into the blade, and it shone with a magnificent light that Pinkie had never seen before. Lowering it, she took in the sight before her.

The cliff face was decorated in symbols similar to that on the blade, written in a strange red liquid. A strange choice of decoration, Pinkie told herself, taking in the sights. The symbols seemed random, but looking at them for a moment, they seemed to make more and more sense. They seemed to shift and swirl, and Pinkie found her head beginning to pound as she tried to follow them. She averted her gaze for a moment, before reasserting herself. The party couldn't end happily until the cake was cut, she told herself. Following the symbols, Pinkie found the cake. It was a delicious, deep red colour, and looked very moist. She placed a hoof on it. It still had warmth to it, and a nice softness. She glanced over. She saw two small dollops of icing near the top. She figured the cake must be special, as it was making noise. She loved the more novelty focused cakes.

With a steady hoof, she placed the blade on top of the cake. It was time to take the first slice...

As the knife slowly cut into the cake, a red syrup began to drip out. Pinkie placed a hoof in it. She really hoped it was a cherry flavoring. That was always one of her favorites. However, it was rude to take a taste until all the others had been served. Working diligently, she cut the first slice and handed it to Mr. N. He grinned in approval, before handing it off to one of his guests, the large tentacle gentlecolt, who greedily devoured the slice. So did the act continue, small slice after small slice, handed out until each guest had had their piece. As Mr. N ate his piece, he nodded to Pinkie. Pinkie nodded back, smiling. She was so happy to have been able to help the party be a huge success, and it was clear she had earned her reward. Raising the knife to where the sound was emanating, she placed the blade once more, and in one quick motion, silenced the noise. Watching the red syrup leak out, she dabbed a little with her hoof. She brought it to her lips and gave it a small lick...

In an instant, Pinkie’s eyes snapped open. The salty, metallic taste of blood touched her tongue, and for a moment, her sanity returned. Stepping back in horror, she beheld what she had done. The unicorn magician hung from chains embedded in the cliff side. Several chunks had been taken out of his legs and torso. A small hoofprint could be seen in the blood dripping down from a massive gaping wound in his neck. Blood continued to drip from the lifeless corpse, pooling in the dirt beneath him. Pinkie felt the warmth on her hoof, and trembled as her other hoof gripped the knife with all her might.

Mr. N stepped up, taking a place beside Pinkie. His grin was wider than ever. He thanked Pinkie for a wonderful party. Truly, he said, it would be a party to remember. Stepping around, he looked Pinkie in the eyes. If she wanted, he said, she could join him, and they would be able to party like this for all of eternity.

Pinkie kept a tight grip on the knife, a thousand thoughts rushing through her head. Maddening voices screamed in her head. Some told her to run, to drop the knife and make for the hills. Others told her to fight back. Yet another, louder and more terrifying voice, told her to join and spend the rest of eternity within the warm embrace of Mr. N’s blasphemous party. What was worse was that each voice was her own, and Pinkie knew not who to listen to. Her thoughts centered for a moment, however, when she felt a hoof on her shoulder. She looked up to see Mr. N, a warm, yet deeply disturbing smile on his face. He asked for her answer.

With that, Pinkie swung.

In what seemed like slow motion, the knife gouged into Mr. N’s neck, slicing through it with ease. A stream of a strange, black ichor came out instead of blood, but Pinkie paid it little heed as the knife came back and began to sink into Mr. N’s chest, over and over. Pinkie struck again and again, the black ichor continually leaking out as she struck. She wanted Mr. N gone. She wanted him dead. She wanted him to never return and never bother her or any pony ever again.

Pinkie took a few steps back, breathing heavily. The ichor now covered her and the knife. Mr. N stood there, looking down at the wounds Pinkie had made. He seemed more... surprised than anything. He looked back up at Pinkie, giving a small smirk before collapsing on his side. Pinkie stared at the unmoving corpse for a moment before, to her horror, it began to shift.

The flesh of Mr. N began to shift and bubble in unnatural ways. It pulsed and groaned, sickening sounds of fluids and bone sloshing and crunching. The skin of the corpse grew taut before tearing open. The entity that grew out was beyond pony description; a tower of flesh and bone, claws and mouths, and never-ending crawling chaos given form, pulsating and weeping the dark ichor of before, true madness given a hideous form.

As the maddening entity stood there, the other party guests began to laugh. One by one, their forms shifted to that of the deceased Mr. N, continually laughing a deep, ear piercing laugh, the kind of which pure evil itself can only dream of creating. As they laughed, Pinkie could hear another sound, an ominous groan of energy from behind the hideous entity that had been Mr. N. She watched as a massive glow began to appear behind the entity. Slowly, the tower of madness began to rise into the sky, revealing what it had been hiding. The pool of blood had began to crawl up the cliff, creating designs in the cliff face around the bloody symbols. The glow had grown more powerful and hideous, and it appeared as if the cliff itself was collapsing into where the blood had been.

It was then that it happened; reality was torn, and pure nightmares began to pulse forth. Pinkie could only watch in horror and madness as everything she held dear was unmade. Hideous dog-like creatures of bone and sinew, menacing fish-faced ponies with bulgy eyes, bizarre beings of black bubbly mucus. This could but name a few of the untold entities now rushing into Equestria. But worse even than these were the creatures that only appeared once; a strange elephant being seemingly made of stone, a entity of dark maws and tentacles the size of building, flanked by massive hooved tree-like monstrosities, and finally, a dark creature, the size of a skyscraper, with massive flabby wings and what appeared to be an octopus for a head, all emerged from the portal before scattering into the woods.

Slowly, the energy from the portal dissipated, as did the laughter. Pinkie stood in silence as the Mr. N’s slowly vanished one by one. The knife dropped from her hoof, embedding itself in the damp earth. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and finally the peace of unconsciousness found her.

It was around midday the following day. Twilight Sparkle and her friends had been combing the Everfree Forest in search of their friend. Their fellow Ponyvillians had noted something strange about the coins Pinkie had been using, and the fact that they hadn’t seen her since yesterday had raised several red flags.

It was Rainbow Dash who first found the clearing from the sky, bringing the others in after her. They found Pinkie curled up in the middle of a clearing, surrounded by empty tables in bizarre patterns, in front of a cliff. The cliff was barren, save for a single blood stain, which the group assumed came from Pinkie’s injured hoof. She lay shivering in silence, covered in some strange black tarry substance as Fluttershy and Rarity worked to bandage her injury.

As they hoisted Pinkie onto Applejack to take her back to town, Twilight decided to have a look around. Pinkie seemed to be in no mood to talk, and other than the empty tables, there wasn't much evidence to base an idea on. It was then that she noticed the pedestal. She approached it slowly, careful not to step on the broken glass she saw surrounding it. Taking a look, she found a large, musty tome sitting on the pedestal. Curious, she magically opened it to get a better look.

What she found confused her. It was just one word, which she didn't recognize, written over and over again in different hands. As she read it, she could feel her heart start pounding, but dismissed it. She considering asking Pinkie, but thought that it wouldn't be a very good idea.

That night, while Pinkie recuperated at home, Twilight looked through the library for any information on the strange word she had seen in the book in the clearing. Spike had called it an early night, and so Twilight was left to her own devices. 

It was only after many hours of systematic searching that she found the book she was looking for. It was called “Nameless Cults”, a book of occult ramblings that Twilight had previously ignored.

With any luck, she could finally find out the meaning of word that had placed her friend in such a sorry state.

Soon, she would know the meaning of “Nyarlathotep”.