Civilizations rise and fall. Time goes on. Ponies die. Love endures. Choose your own responses to the ponies around you to shape your destiny, or fight monsters as familiar yet unlikely soldiers for a doomed cause. Text RPG/Dating Sim.
An experimental Fanfic/Text RPG/Dating Sim that I've decided to write to test my limits.
The past is a strange place to be. Others forget it, others want to forget, and some even wish that they could take a step back and relive sepia-tinged memories of days gone by. It's a decision Celestia has to struggle and come to terms with. Live through that past as two of Celestia's best soldiers and students, or join Celestia, Luna and the Mane 6 in the present to guard Equestria from a new threat on the horizon. Shape your own actions through battling monsters and selecting dialogue options, and romance the pony of your dreams. Memini amici: Remember you have friends.
Full Name: Chrysalis Elizabeth Auroth Blood Type: O. Also green. Sex: With her? Yes, please. I'm kidding. Female. Race: Dragon. Age: ???? (Don't ask her) Occupation: Commander of the Red Flight, Student, Consumer, Consumer of Students Hobbies: Collecting shiny objects, physically abusing Sombra Notable Titles or Nicknames: Celestia's Black Wing
Equipment Slots and Starting Equipment
Head: Celestial Helm (Common) +10 Health Body: Celestial Cuirass (Common) +40 Health Limbs: Celestial Greaves (Common) +10 Health Wings: Celestial Chains (Common) +5 Health Weapon: None Accessory: Black Cloak (Common) If OverLink 2, Deals 40 extra damage to opponent
SKILLS
Starting Health: 200
LEVEL 1
Miss
LEVEL 2
Viridian Flame: Spewing a green gout of caustic flame, Chrysalis sears the very muscle of her enemies away with her abysmal case of bad breath. Deals 60 damage to the opponent of your choice. Their next attack will do 20 less damage due to their injuries.
None
LEVEL 3
Hack and Slash: Chrysalis uses her iron-hard claws to rip deep into her prey, dealing 90 damage and Stunning the opponent. When an opponent is Stunned, pick a number apart from 1. If you roll that number on an opponent's roll, that opponent loses a turn and cannot act. They do not get the half-damage buff from Missing.
None
LEVEL 4
None
None
LEVEL 5
None
None
LEVEL 6
None
None
OVERLINKS
LINK 1 - VORTEX OF WAR: Chrysalis slashes an opponent with a blinding display of aerial acrobatics. Roll a die, and this attack does that much damage times 100.
LINK 2 - NOIRSTORM: Chrysalis blasts forth a devastating beam of primal Dragon energy from deep within her maw, incinerating flesh and warping bone. Deals 150 damage to a number of enemies determined by rolling a die, dividing by two, then rounding up.
LINK 3 - SAVAGERY: Chrysalis's bloodlust causes her to delight in the prospect of battle, enabling her to absorb back damage as health she deals on her next hit.
LINK 4 - NONE
LINK 5 - NONE
LINK 6 - NONE
SOMBRA, THE MAD KNIGHT
Full Name: Sombra Kries Argent Blood Type: B+ Sex: Male Race: Unicorn Age: 27 Occupation: "Grand High Wizard of the Blow-Uppy Squad of Doom" (Commander, The Hornbreaker Battlemage Unit), Student Hobbies: Playing chess, cheating at chess, spending time with Chrysalis and the Princesses Notable Titles or Nicknames: Celestia's Black Blade, Various Humiliating Nicknames by Chrysalis
Equipment Slots and Starting Equipment
Head: Black Knight's Helm (Common) +10 Health Body: Black Knight's Cuirass (Common) +50 Health Limbs: Black Knight's Horseshoes (Common) +10 Health Horn: Black Knight's Ring (Common) +10 Skill Damage Weapon: Ebony Shockblade (Common) +15 Skill Damage Accessory: Black Cloak (Common) If OverLink 1, Deals 40 extra damage to opponent
SKILLS
Starting Health: 180
LEVEL 1
Miss
LEVEL 2
Arcane Blade: Sombra magically augments his blade and chops down with his weapon coated in a mysterious, rippling energy. Deals 40 damage, and 30 extra damage for every 100 Health the opponent is missing.
None
LEVEL 3
Edge of Madness: Sombra quietens his soul and forces the pain his wounds cause him to seep into his weapon, greatly enhancing his attack power. This attack deals 30 plus 100 damage for every quarter of Sombra's health missing.
None
LEVEL 4
None
None
LEVEL 5
None
None
LEVEL 6
None
None
OVERLINKS
LINK 1- CHAINS OF PROMETHEUS: Sombra summons forth a maelstrom of spiked, cursed chains that ensnare the enemy. The enemy takes 20 damage for two turns and loses those two turns.
LINK 2 - PENUMBRAL STEELGRIP: Sombra traps an enemy in a rapidly shrinking ball of metallic magic, crushing them. Choose a number, and roll a die. If you roll a die with the number that you chose, the enemy is instantly defeated. Otherwise, the enemy takes damage equal to a quarter of Sombra's remaining Health.
LINK 3 - DECAPITATION: Sombra focuses, and allows his weapon to momentarily take on the physical properties of Abaddon, the forbidden scythe of the Pale Pony. Permanently increases all damage Sombra deals by 100 every time an enemy is killed after Sombra activates this OverLink. Bonus damage vanishes after the battle is concluded.
LINK 4 - NONE
LINK 5 - NONE
LINK 6 - NONE
TUTORIAL LEVEL: VIOLENCE, NUDITY AND AWESOME WEAPONIZED QUILLS
The monarch staggered back, tottering and falling flat on his own misshapen behind. Color drained from his hard-lined features, and for one of the few times in his long life, he visibly quailed, his pupils retracting alarmingly as spittle frothed at the edges of his bristly beak. It was laughable, really, how the mighty had fallen. How this contemptuous king had greeted him high upon his throne, wholly expecting his assailant's arrival. How he had smugly sat, ensconced by his troops, glutted upon the sins of complacency and loathsome self-indulgence that had only been fueled by years of successful conquests and bountiful summers laden with produce, of economical success and political placidity.
In the last eight hours, all that had changed.
His troops lay dead about him, slain in a final act of futility. His throne smoldered still, and the embers of the black fire merrily ate away at the singed velvet and the down stuffing, blissfully oblivious to the power vacuum that was about to break free into this existence. His soldiers were decimated, his left arm...
Severed.
He yowled in agony like a petulant child, clutching the stump of his torn appendage. He doubled over in pain, snot and tears unceremoniously marring his face in brutal parody of the many gaudy and egotistical portraits of his that hung around the throne room.
How did he...when did he...?
The assassin levitated the limb in front of his face, eyeing it curiously and innocently as would an infant gaze upon its mother. He cocked his head to the side, and beneath his mask, a mouth twitched. In a shower of gore, the arm stripped itself of flesh and the creamy bone disintegrated into dust, leaving behind the thick gold band that the former king had worn on his ring finger.
He casually pocketed the trinket, his single visible eye glowing a bright crimson in the syrupy light of the setting sun. Meticulously, he produced a roll of parchment and a quill from the inside of his robes, and dipping the quill in a puddle of the king's own blood, he shoved it towards the still writhing griffon. His voice was hilariously deadpan, tired and wheedly, like he had been through this too many times.
"Sign this, please."
The words on the paper were clouded by King Kragoff's own faded vision, dots swam and went before his dangerously veined hazel eyes. Still, he was a proud king, and if the Protectorate was to fall, he would fall with it, honorably and with whatever shards of his scattered dignity remained. He looked up at his would-be killer, his own frame hunched and pitiable, while the warrior stood upright and strong, his single crimson eye a glassy wall between the world and unintelligible hidden depths. He summoned enough strength and courage to spit a gob of congealed blood at the unicorn's feet.
"Over my flocking dead bo-"
Kragoff had barely finished his poorly-chosen sentence before he heard the sound of his own neck snapping.
A small blossoming of blood had spattered across the pony's armored breastplate, he grimaced and wiped it off, before noticing how horribly gore-smeared the rest of his armor was. It was going to be a pain getting all that blood off. He so hated the sight of his precious armor being soiled. The battle was won, the fight was over. Like a snake gracefully molting, Lightning Dawn began to shed his outer armor, revealing a strong, well-muscled frame, a head crowned with a luxuriant, smartly coiffed mane...
And a crossbow bolt embedded itself in his neck with a sickly thud.
Faster than he could react, three more found their mark in his flank, back and finally the last, expertly aimed one split his horn in two, firmly burying itself in his skull.
Two shadowy figures leapt down from the rafters, throwing back their dark hooded robes to reveal triumphant smiles. A pony and a young wyrm, the former of which wasted no time in looting the warrior's corpse for the ring. The dragon stared at her partner questionably, retrieving the scroll, the contents of which the dead pony had tried to make the recently deceased king acquiesce to. She cleared her throat and read it aloud.
"By command of the High Ruler, Lord and Emperor of the Crystal Empire, Bane of the Sun and Moon, Hatred Incarnate, Subjugator of the Potato-Folk..."
The pony groaned theatrically.
"Chryssie, be a dear and skip the jackhole's ego-fest, get to the meat of the matter."
Chrysalis glanced at the bloodied and mutilated corpses of the previous two occupants of the Throne Room.
"Pun intended?"
The unicorn grinned, the fading sunlight catching his smile in a mad radiance.
"Not at all."
The dragon resumed her dictation.
"As decreed by our High Ruler, Lord and Emperor of the Crystal Empire, Bane of...I'm just going to skip that every time...Well, what it says in general is that Discord intended to make the Protectorate his personal weapons depot, what with all this Griffon technology lying around. Long story short, he needed the King's signature to authorize a proper abdication, but it seems like our assassin friend here may have gotten a little carried away with carrying out this particular...diplomatic endeavor." She nodded her head towards the fallen unicorn. He really did have quite a nice mane. "Fat chance of that happening now that he's dead. Our reinforcements should be arriving shortly to take care of the stragglers in both Discord's and Kragoff's armies for us. Ornith Keep is as good as ours."
"Also, blueprints." Chrysalis offered her friend a look, but he sighed and pushed the papers away.
The pony who had fired the crossbow sat on his haunches, rubbing his sore thighs while levitating the King's ring in front of him idly.
"So what now, Scales? Do we report to Bosslestia right away, or do you want to grab a drink first? My heart says Princess but my throat says whiskey."
"Isn't that what your heart and throat always says?"
"Nah, sometimes it's the other way around," Sombra winked lewdly. Chrysalis smiled wearily, despite the fact that her back was killing her. They had spent hours perched up in their roost trapped in awkward positions, high above the resulting carnage, watching the drama unfold and waiting for the opportune moment to strike. It didn't help that she had to stop and keep her partner from falling off the thin wooden beam every fifteen seconds. But still, it was over. They had the intelligence that they had sought to garner, and they had gathered a few shiny things to offer as tribute as well. She felt her dragon urges to hoard treasure compel her towards the fallen figure of King Kragoff the Third, still bedecked in jewelry and regalia, to loot, to steal, to pillage, but she temporarily quelled them by settling for a small bracelet that the king had worn on his gnarled wrist. She dislodged it, licked it clean and happily slid it onto her tail. That would have to do as tribute, lest her habits got the better of her again. She turned to her colleague, beaming, her vitality renewed.
"I suppose the Princess can afford to wait for a while."
The pony's grin only widened at that sentiment. He extended a hoof in mock chivalry, putting on a deep, Hoofington accent to boot.
"Shall we, my good lady?"
"We shall."
They strode from the wrecked remains of a great civilization come to an end, an Armageddon for that unfortunate race. A culture lost, a people scattered. They strode through the battlefield, the sky alight and awash with the impending twilight, ignoring the cries of the griffon survivors for their kin, their lost home and their wish for their loss of the Battle for Ornith Keep to be another nightmare that would be stolen away by the oncoming dawn.
~~~~
Canterlot Castle, Throne Room
"Your Radiance. Messages from Ornith Keep."
The courier found it incredibly difficult to retain his composure in the direct presence of the warrior Princess. The alicorn mare sat upon her golden throne, clad in her full suit of spiked battle armor sans her helmet, which lay at her side like some beheaded golem. Her hind legs were still daintily crossed as a Princess would, but to call her so would be the epitome of folly. Luscious pink hair hung far past her back and pooled at her hooves, braided with golden chains while her magenta gaze remained steely and cold as the scythe that she straddled in her lap like some morbid lover. She nodded, an indicator for the spindly stallion to relay his message. He stepped forwards, and deposited several scrolls into the Princess's hooves, quickly stepping back, as though for fear of being burned by her fiery aura.
Sending away the courier with a second curt nod, Celestia incinerated the wax seal of the parchment with a thought, and read the contents to herself.
"Dear Princess Celestia. The mission you sent us on today was a huge success. Enclosed within this scroll are the Griffon documents that you instructed Sombra and I to procure. I believe you will find these both intriguing and informative. For your reading comfort, I've taken the liberty of omitting and abbreviating the Discord's rather overcompensative title simply to 'King Jackhole'. I hope with all my heart that this amusing editorial quirk will both bring a smile to your face and also relieve you of some of the stress this entire Crystal Empire business must have placed upon your venerable shoulders. Sombra and I also offer these trifling offerings to you as tribute. I hope you like them, your Highness. Your Loyal Wings and eye in the sky, Chrysalis. Sun Bless." In the corner of the note, the words 'ASS-KISSER' were messily (And rather hypocritically) scrawled in Sombra's trademark turquoise Ink Spell.
"Dear Princess Celestia. Today I've learned a valuable lesson, and that's never to balance on two hooves while perching on a thin wooden beam. It appears that the circus ponies have yet again been lying to me. Your Faithful And Ever So Loving Student, Sombra. P.S: Here's some shiny stuff. I know you like it shiny, so here you go. Just doing my part for the best and most beautiful Princess in the world. P.P.S: Sun Bless." A golden ring and a silver bangle slid out from between the sheets of paper, and Celestia lovingly put them on, threading the ring through her mane and the bangle on her hoof, both sets of jewelry looking very much at home, merrily sparkling away.
Celestia set the letters aside, and looked over the blueprints. Siege engines and torture devices dominated the majority of the schematics, however, one of them bothered her immensely. The crystogram, another ingenious Griffon creation at her side bleeped alarmingly, and she tapped it hurriedly with one metal-clad hoof, drinking in the contents of the plans before her in barely controlled disbelief. The withered shape of the Prime Minister, Velvet Diplomacy came into view.
"Sun Bless. My liege. There has been...an incident in downtown Canterlot." His words were cautiously chosen, lest he anger the pony infamous for having the most explosive temper in the entire Equestrian Principality.
Celestia gritted her teeth.
"Kill them."
"But my liege, I haven't even-"
"It's about the Griffon insurgents, is that right? They're revolting, as news of their King's death reaches their ears."
Velvet pursed her aged lips in distress. The Princess was as blunt as she always was.
"Shall I...?"
"Kill them? Yes. If need be, send me another message, and I'll call down a strike on them. However I am very sure none of my soldiers are that incompetent as to require my direct assistance. Also, send Triple Barrel to the Throne Room. Your Princess requires his presence."
Velvet readily absorbed and processed this barrage of orders, as she always did.
"At once, your Radiance. Sun Bless."
Celestia turned off the crystogram and got off her throne, her armor clanking with her as she strode briskly to her balcony window. From that vantage point, she could see the entire world. Her entire world. Her utopia, where her little ponies could live in peace and harmony, going about their cruelly short mortal lives like candles in a threatening breeze. If she could stop time and allow this pristine, peaceful state to carry on for eternity, she would. She would quell that breeze if she could, allow her little ponies to burn bright well beyond their time. To live forever. To stay forever, with her-
The doors creaked open, and Triple Barrel poked his head in. The portly pony knelt before his Princess, and kissed the extended iron-clad hoof. Celestia's voice was volatile with repressed anger at the massacre happening downtown.
"That was rather fast. Where were you?"
"Sun...B...bless. Outside in the hallway, Your Radiance. I caught word that you may have received Griffon documents, and I could not resist the chance to analyse them." He panted, obviously having rushed to the Throne Room in a hurry.
In an aura of yellow magic, Celestia blinked the scrolls into Barrel's excitable hooves.
He levitated the papers about his head, his eyes widened at some and others just made him wince. His wings, surprisingly small for his large stature, fluttered about excitedly. Celestia plucked the one particular blueprint out of the whirlwind of paper, and showed it to Barrel. His eyes bulged at the design, and the other papers fell at his feet, the old pony too startled to keep up his magic aura of telekinesis.
"This...This thing..."
"I want you to make me all of these war machines. Mass produce them. But this one, you make only four, do you understand? This one, you personally make, two for myself, and one each for my two students. I trust you completely, Professor Barrel, but if I find any extra copies of this particular construct lying around, or if I catch gossip of ponies talking about this, Vanishing Star and I are going to have a regrettably indulgent field day with your head, do you understand?"
Barrel gulped and glanced worriedly at the folding scythe that laid deceptively innocuously against the side of the Radiant Throne.
"Y...yes, your Radiance."
Celestia smiled, a beautiful yet terrible sight.
"I only jest, my little pony. Now hurry on to your mechanics, I believe they'll be overjoyed with these."
Barrel nodded, and omitting the traditional Royal Farewell, he hurried out the door, which slammed shut behind him.
The guards glowered at him as he he sped down the cobblestone pavilions, scrolls grasped rigidly in his telekinetic grip. Nervous perspiration beaded his creased forehead, his heart raced from both the exertion of running and the pulsing anticipation that flowed through his veins. Already forming plans in his head, of which metals to weld, which solvents to mix, his newly acquired treasures a veritable wonderland of mechanical possibilities and innovation. Unceremoniously, with a swift buck, he threw the worn oaken doors to his personal workshop open, promptly hitting one of his assistants in the face.
Without wasting a second, he began laying out the plans, twisting dials and adjusting knobs, while vigorously drinking from a flagon of ale that had been left out on the counter. His subordinates looked at each other worriedly, as the room became bathed in the crimson low of the forges.The last time they had seen their cherished mentor so...demented, was when the Princess Luna herself had presented him with her own ambitious specifications for her personal weapon. Barking out orders like a Commander would his Legion, the ponies scurried about according to his directions, hammering this, slicing that. As they worked and looked at the stolen plans, a light of understanding slowly dawned within that small group of elite tinkerers, blacksmiths, mechanics, and of course, in Triple Barrel himself.
These were the instruments that would forevermore change the winds of fate.
Celestia watched all this from her window. She saw the soft glow of the forge illuminate her sister's night, she saw the embers like petals of flame dance and die embracing the nocturnal wind.
Philomena swooped in from her window, and perched on her owner's shoulder, cooing softly. Celestia removed one of her gauntlets, and stroked her pet affectionately. The phoenix squawked in response, and tapped the Sun Princess with her left claw. Attached to her foot, was a small scroll tied with a lock of hauntingly familiar blue hair.
Celestia's bottom lip quivered as she bit down upon it.
Blood spattered the balcony.
~~~~
Everfree Forest, Eastern Plateau
"Oh, Celestia DAMN it!"
XXX
VS: ???? PONIES
Health: 100 Each
There are 20 enemies. However you can choose to quit the battle and consider it a win after defeating at least 2. You may only defeat a maximum of 15 ponies before they overwhelm you. Remember, you do not collect loot if you die. Choose carefully.
Skill 2,3: Attacks you for 30 damage. Skill 4,5: Poison Arrow: Deals 30 damage plus 10 damage if Poison Arrow connected with a hit in the previous turn. Skill 6: Potion Drink: Restores 30 Health.
Enemy OverLink: Venomous Barrage: Deals 10 damage every following turn for the next 5 turns.
Loot: 1,2: Health Potion (Heals 50 Health), 6: Charred Helm of the Twin Sisters (Uncommon) (Chrysalis: Head) Health +15
CHOOSE YOUR CHARACTER!
XXX
Sombra bowled over four of the offending ponies, knocking them to the ground. He fired two bolts into two of the ponies' foreheads, before backflipping to avoid a blow, the dodged arrow barely grazing his flank, landing back to back with Chrysalis, whose leg was oozing neon green dragon blood.
"Chryssie, your leg-"
"Shut up and be USEFUL!" She yelled, swatting at another of their attackers with her claws, before letting loose a gout of viridian flame with a bellow. Her slit-eyed pupils contracted as another arrow found its mark in her thigh, breaking through her scales and embedding itself in the soft underflesh, and she screamed. At the same time, Sombra had his military sword drawn, and thrust the blade into the side of a pony who was about to move in for the kill on the wounded dragoness. He pulled the built-in trigger on the hilt, and a jarring shock of energy surged from his horn through the weapon, causing the pony to explode messily in charred chunks of flesh.
"Stay close to me, lay down and make yourself as small as possible. I'll take care of this." As much as her pride disagreed, Chrysalis complied.
Three more of the hooded ponies fell as Sombra gyrated his blade in a wide arc.
They were everywhere; In the trees, behind bushes, on their tail, as they ran, Chrysalis slung over Sombra's back. He could barely hold her up, he was a big pony but Chrysalis was a post-adolescent dragoness, and she weighed a TON. Sombra made a quick mental note to never to tell her that. Occasionally, he blindly swung his floated sword in a wide circle around himself, his fears lessening each time the blade met resistance. Breaking open one of his saddlebags, he rummaged through the assortment of magical knickknacks that he had thoughtlessly brought with him but never actually used. Throwing a string of amulets over his shoulder, he blinked in surprise as one of them caught an attacker in the face, pointy-end up.
"AAAAAARGH!"
"I hope you CHOKE on it!"
Sombra generated an endlessly propagating chain of swears in his head as he rained puzzle cubes and voodoo dolls on his enemies. Where was it? He wanted to ask Chrysalis, she had this terrible habit of packing his bags and therefore causing Sombra to not have the slightest clue where his teleportation scrolls were when he needed them. But she was knocked out cold, probably due to her minor case of massive blood loss, and even with her slick ebony scales, she still looked alarmingly pale. After lobbing an assortment of his favorite quills behind him, he finally chanced upon a ragged strip of paper stenciled with Celestia's sun sigil.
"Alright, what were the wor-ARRIVEDERCI, MOTHERBUCKERS!"
The paper glowed in response to Sombra's carefully selected activation phrase, and in a flash of light, the two soldiers were gone, leaving behind a smoking circle of charred grass, and a trail of shattered potion bottles and ink-pots.
~~~~
Marethal, Inn
Chrysalis awoke to a blurry world, covered in warm sheets of sheepskin stuffed with cotton. She was alone in the cosy-looking room, a vase of fresh flowers stood on her bedside table. It was morning, and she could hear the saccharine sound of birds chirping outside her window. Breakfast, a pastry roll doused in maple syrup and a glass of juice, lay on a clever tray that was built onto the bed, propped over her lap. Childishly, Chrysalis the Dragon Slayer wondered if it was all a dream. Her eye twitched as she attempted to move her leg, the spike of red-hot pain disproving her hopeful theory.
The first thing that came to her fuzzy mind was kidnapping. But that probably wasn't the case; Her surroundings were far too pleasant and she was limited in movement only by her wounds, which, by the tangy smell of medication that arose from beneath the sheets, had been treated and disinfected. Her head of silky green dragon-mane had been washed and combed into a neat bun, which was held in place by an owl-feather quill. Sitting up, she tentatively ran her tongue along a small dribble of syrup that was on the side of the plate, the sweet and earthy flavor spreading across her tongue. She smiled, before digging in, each bite reminding her of how ravenous she actually was, quickly polishing off her meal and downing her glass of juice in one gulp.
Wait, she thought. If she was here, where was Somb-
"You look lively enough."
Chrysalis screamed, spitting out a stream of flame, and Sombra joined in as his mane caught fire.
"AAAAAAAARGH! A WHOLE NIGHT OF TAKING CARE OF YOU AND THIS IS WHAT YOU DO TO ME WHEN YOU WAKE UP?"
"NEVER MIND THAT, WHAT WERE YOU DOING BENEATH MY BED?"
Sombra patted down his now literally smoky black mane, his bangs now singed, misshapen and hanging over his eyes.
"For your information," He huffed, "That was MY bed. After I tossed out half my stuff trying to get us away from those crazy assassins, I managed to carry your scaly flank and make it all the way here to Marethal. Mare-Celestia damned-thal. Then I realized that I'd tossed out my coin purse as well, so I had to beg the only innkeeper in town for a room, and the psycho wouldn't give me one or treat your wounds unless I performed a magic show for her kid's birthday party. So you're lying there, making your own little green swimming pool in the corner of the room, while I'm pulling handkerchiefs out of my undies for a group of colts and fillies. Then I get this single bed. Naturally, being the gentlecolt that I am, I let you have it. I clean, dress your wounds for you, pull out the arrows in your draconic posterior, listen to you spout gibberish as you slipped in and out of consciousness..." Sombra swapped his normal voice with that of an insultingly high-pitched falsetto. "Oh, Sombra, it hurts! Please, it hurts, take it out! Oh, Sombra, you're so handsome and -"
He was silenced with a single talon pressed softly against his lips. Glittering green met royal purple, and Sombra could have sworn she might have been tearing up a little. He would never let that go if that was the case.
"Thank you."
Sombra took a deep breath to fill his recently emptied lungs.
They sat there in silence for a few moments, before the dragoness coughed and looked away. She craned her head to look out the window. Marethal was a beautiful place, lively and full of commerce, the city's many buildings all hewn from a rusty rouge rock reminiscent of those of an old, well loved Earth Pony country home. The streets were pretty and filled with roadside shops, mares and colts strode peacefully, hoof in hoof with their little fillies and colts, shopping for breakfast, fresh fruits and vegetables, and Chrysalis almost wished she could join them, and do what they did; live a life free from the constant turmoil of combat and loss that soldiers like her had to deal with on a daily basis, to smile, laugh, to eat around a roaring fire among friends who weren't going to die the next day, to laugh, to love.
She didn't respond when Sombra asked if she was alright, and he waved a hoof in front of her glazed-over eyes. She blinked, and banished those wistfully happy thoughts to the back of her mind.
"Sombra, did you find out anything about the ponies that attacked us?"
The battlemage produced a few phials of luminescent green fluid from his saddlebags.
"It's your blood," He said matter-of-factly.
He then uncorked one, and downed the contents before Chrysalis could object or stop him. The pony twitched sporadically, and slowly, dark blue mist began to form around his shoulders and back, a hood eventually obscuring his entire head from view. It was broad daylight with the light from the airy room shining straight into his face, but Chrysalis saw nothing but darkness in the depths of the hood. When he spoke, he sounded like he had a garbage can over his head.
"Pretty cool, huh?"
In a flash of turquoise magic, he dispelled the cloak.
"There was a poison in those arrows that they shot you with. In the bloodstream, it acts as a deadly toxin, but when digested, it works like a liquefied disguise spell. It's unlike any disguise spell I've ever seen, though. It was cold. And unpleasant." Sombra paused, as though deep in thought. "Kind of like you, actually."
Chrysalis nodded, skipping straight over the insult and eagerly taking this information in. However, one piece of the puzzle didn't sit quite right.
"Sombra, how did you figure ingesting the spell...my blood...out in the first place?" She dreaded the answer. He took a step back warily.
"Well, uh...The inn was a little low-tech on medical supplies, and when I asked for a pressurized suction device, the innkeeper thought I was asking her for sex, so...In the end, I kind of had to suck the poison out of your wounds." He paused.
"...How...?
"Orally," He deadpanned.
Sombra shrieked as his hair was set on fire for the second time that day.
"COME ON, WOULD IT MAKE YOU FEEL BETTER IF I TOLD YOU YOU TASTED OKAY?"
A luminescent blush was beginning to spread out on Chrysalis's cheeks.
"How DARE you violate me!"
Sombra was now nearly bald, but rectified it with a quick regrowth spell. "You know, I've seen this situation happening, but this is way different than I thought it would be." He ducked as Chrysalis lobbed her now empty plate at him. "You know, me, you, waking up in a room with one bed after a long night, aching all over, you setting my hair on fire and then condemning me for violating you..."
"What else did you do!?" Chrysalis questioned, defensively covering herself up with her sheets. A bright green flush now adorned her cheeks.
"Well, I HAD to clean you up."
"Even...d...d...down there?"
Sombra did a double take. Did the almighty and unrivaled Chrysalis just stammer? He found the entire situation hilarious but was nervous about proceeding further, lest the angry dragoness actually do some permanent damage to him.
"Well, if I didn't you would have probably contracted some venereal disease from all the filth in-"
"YOU FILTHY EQUINE SCUM!"
"It's okay, there wasn't much to look at-" Sombra instantly regretted his choice in words.
XXX
VS Chrysalis OR Sombra
Choose your player character, then fight the other. Stop the battle after 3 turns. Stats and skills for each character are the same as the Character Profiles above.
Loot: 1,2,3: Loose Scales (Consumable, grants -10 damage on next enemy hit), 4,5,6: Burnt Hair (Common) (Sombra: Head) Health +0
XXX
Downstairs, the innkeeper, a plump pegasus mare, had just finished her breakfast, and with her newspaper in hoof, had just settled down to enjoy her morning cup of coffee amidst the remnants of her little colt's birthday party from the previous night. Setting aside a bunch of streamers and a chain of suspiciously malodorous handkerchiefs, she sipped the rich blend, accidentally spilling half of it down her front as she heard a female voice yell from upstairs, threatening to rip who she assumed was that strange magician pony's manhood off and burn it to ashes. The aged innkeeper sighed dreamily as she enjoyed her hot beverage.
"Ah, young love."
~~~
Now sporting a set of bloodied, magicked-up bandages over his left eye, Sombra sulked in the corner of the room, facing the wall while Chrysalis got dressed, despite his insistent and surprisingly well-found argument that the two of them walked around completely naked the majority of the time. The only point he got out of that statement was a sharply rising one, growing out the side of his head where Chrysalis had thrown one of his own pauldrons at him from behind. He heard the telltale sound of Chrysalis strapping her boots up, and prepared to leave, his armor unfastening and swiftly wrapping itself around him while Chrysalis fiddled with her footwear's tricky knots with her talons. The joys of magic.
"I guarantee leaving now isn't a great idea. I'm not sure if you're completely healed."
"I'm healed enough. I'm not about to spend another night with the thought of you sleeping beneath my bed and fondling my lady parts."
"So you fondled your lady parts at the thought of me sleeping beneath your bed?"
Thwack.
"Sorry."
A/N: AND DEN TEY FUKED THE END. So tempting. Here it is, the first Level of Remembering Crystalys. I'm pretty happy with how the humor in this chapter turned out, and how the setting played true to what I wanted to achieve in the first place. I have a decent idea of where I want to go with this story, and while the Chrysombra pairing is fairly evident in this chapter, there will be more twists and turns in this story than Cloud Strife has ellipses. And Cloud freakin' Strife has an assload of them. So prepare for ass, and hit me up with a review, or comments on what you liked best. Fave, review, comment, criticize, help me improve, so on and so forth. And for now, I bid you farewell.
END CHAPTER BONUSES: Achievement Unlocked: Fabula Nova - Complete Chapter 1.
CHRYSALIS LEVEL UP: If you fought more than 7 ??? Ponies. Health +50.
CHRYSALIS LEVEL UP: If you dealt more than 150 Damage to Sombra in your fight with him. Health +25.
SOMBRA LEVEL UP: If you fought more than 7 ??? Ponies. Health +50.
SOMBRA LEVEL UP: If you Missed at least once while fighting Chrysalis. Health +25.
GUEST CHARACTER UNLOCKED
PRINCESS CELESTIA (PAST)
Full Name: Celestia vi Equestria Blood Type: O Sex: Female Race: Alicorn Age: 530 Occupation: God-Queen ("Princess") of the Equestrian Principality, Teacher, Sun-Raiser, Deadly Combatant Hobbies: Raising the Sun, Eating Cake, Planning Her Daily Schedule Notable Titles or Nicknames: Your "Insert honorary title with sun-related connotation here".
EQUIPMENT
Head: Titan's Helm (Legendary) +1000 Health Body: Seraphic Armor (Legendary) +8000 Health Limbs: Midas Horseshoes (Legendary) +3000 Health Wings: Engraved Wingblades (Legendary) +1000 Skill Damage Horn/Mane: Kragoff's Ring (Legendary) +125 Skill Damage Weapon: Vanishing Star (Legendary) +3000 Skill Damage Accessory: The Radiant Crown (Legendary) If OverLink 5, cast twice.
SKILLS
Starting Health: 9999
LEVEL 1
Miss
LEVEL 2
Quasar Cleave: Celestia slashes forth with her sun-forged blade, slicing any being lesser than a goddess neatly in two. Deals 4000 Damage and grants a charge of Devotion, to the enemy, making them lose 500 health every time they attack Celestia and their hit connects for every Devotion charge.
Searing Justice: Vocalizing words of power thought long lost to Ponykind, Celestia incinerates the very minds of the unfortunate souls with the profoundity of her knowledge. Deals 1000 Damage and grants 2 charges of Devotion.
LEVEL 3
Megaflare: Celestia brings down a bolt of solar energy so blindingly fierce that it vaporizes whatever is unlucky enough to even be close to it. Deals 5000 Damage and adds a charge of Devotion.
Solar Strike: Celestia unleashes her inner rage and calls down a mystical storm of solid sunbeams. Deals 2000 Damage to all opponents and grants a charge of Devotion.
LEVEL 4
Leeching Shield: Celestia blocks all Damage dealt to her, and gains as much Health as she would have lost.
Sunblade: Celestia focuses a fragment of the Sun's energy into an energy sword that protrudes from her left hoof. Roll a die, and this attack deals 500 times double the number rolled, distributed among any number of enemies.
LEVEL 5
Fiery Avatar: Celestia brings forth a flaming avatar that enables her to attack twice per turn for three turns.
Black Hole Star: Celestia collapses the surrounding area into a black hole through which only she can escape. Deals 3000 Damage for every charge of Devotion on the opponent.
LEVEL 6
Soul Break: Celestia disassociates the target opponent's soul from their earthly body, dealing 5000 Damage and making them lose a turn.
Shining Reaper: Sometimes, the light is the greatest monster of all, erasing life as though it never existed. Instantly defeats any opponent if their Devotion is higher than 20.
OVERLINK
LEVEL 1 2 3 4 5 6
HARMONIA: Nobody knows what this attack does, because nobody has survived it. Most witnesses of Celestia's sparse uses of this attack on the battlefield only recall a blinding flash of light, then a gaping hole in their memory, as if burned away from their very minds. Enemies hit with this attack cannot act for 7 turns.
Next chapter will be lighter and softer, so take a break, consolidate your new stats and weapons, and proceed, brave adventurer. To your new life in Ponyville.
Darkness. You feel it twisting around your hooves, wrapping itself, serpentine and cold against your skin, caressing with a dangerous air about it, as though it might coalesce into a form more corporeal and strangle you in your helpless state. Where are you? You're floating, falling, flying...the air is warm but not cool, for lack of a better description, it feels like you're trapped in a sea of nothingness. Your eyes blink but you see nothing, you tentatively stick your tongue out, expecting some sort of sensation, but you taste naught but the exhalation of your steady, slow breath. What should you do?
1:Call out to somepony.
2:This is a dream, I'm going to slap myself awake.
3:This is a dream, if I kill myself I'll just shock myself awake.
1: You call out your name. You call out a whole host of other names, and you catch yourself in surprise. You don't know any of the beings that you just named off the top of your head. And now, when you try and recall those names that fell so heavily and confidently from your lips like overripe fruit, they elude you, on the edge of your mind's reach, like a distant recollection of infancy. The darkness soothes you, calms your nerves, and before you can tackle the conundrum that has just presented itself before you, that, too, slips from your mind as you feel a soft, cushioned surface beneath you. You smell a pleasing perfume of cherries and lavender, and as the darkness slowly parts before your eyes, you find yourself in a strange carriage, drawn by two gorgeous pitch-black mares. The rhythmic trundle of the carriage jolts your senses to life, and you realize that you are not alone. A mare sits across from you, her appearance concealed from you by means of a silken veil. The veil twitches as she smiles, and addresses you.
2: You hit yourself, square in the jaw, and as soon as the electric jolt of pain begins to pass through your system, it fades away, as though it never happened. You rub your jaw tentatively, and decide it would be a great idea to hit it again, this time harder and with more force. However this time the infinite darkness intervenes, stopping your hoof from touching your face, and you frown. You try again, but this time aiming for your own groin. And just as you swing, you the darkness fades, and you smell a pleasing perfume of cherries and lavender, and as the murk slowly parts from before your eyes, you find yourself in a strange carriage, drawn by two gorgeous pitch-black mares. Also, with the darkness gone, there is nothing stopping you from swinging your hoof directly into your genital area with the force of a fully grown pony. You double over in pain, as the impact jolts your senses to life, and you realize that you are not alone. A mare sits across from you, her appearance concealed from you by means of a silken veil. The only visible part of her face, her eyes, are crinkled with amusement. She however collects herself quickly, and addresses you.
3: What a bold decision. Your Courage increases by 5 points. You stick your tongue out again, intending to bite it out, when a realization reveals itself to you. If this is a dream, what if you end up biting your own tongue off in real life? At the thought of the real world, your own mind is as cloudy as the monsoon season; you don't remember who you are, what you do, and how you even got here in the first place. You want answers, and you're determined to get them. And as though you willed it, you feel a surface beneath you, soft and cushioned, and as the darkness slowly parts before your eyes, you smell a pleasing perfume of cherries and lavender, and find yourself in a strange carriage, drawn by two gorgeous pitch-black mares. The rhythmic trundle of the carriage jolts your senses to life, and you realize that you are not alone. A mare sits across from you, her appearance concealed from you by means of a silken veil. The veil twitches as she smiles, and addresses you.
"Welcome, honored guest, to the Velvet Room." Her voice is sweet and silky smooth, like melted white chocolate.
You try to speak, however you cannot. You can only remain silent, seated in the carriage as it travels through a never-ending emerald plain, captive beneath a canopy of the brightest stars you ever did see. The mysterious pony offers you a tray, and upon it lies a cup of tea and a selection of biscuits. You accept warily, and sip at your drink. It is every bit as delicious as it feels real, and you slurp down your cup and munch up your sugar-crusted biscuit in seconds. Your companion seems to find this amusing, and she giggles rather innocently, her thin, silken veil quivering with the expression of mirth.
"Would you like an explanation as to why you are here?"
You nod fervently, biscuit crumbs still loitering at the corners of your mouth. She takes your empty teacup, and refills it for you from a teapot she conjures out of thin air, and dispels with an equal amount of grace and effortlessness. She smiles and urges you to drink your tea slowly to enjoy the flavor, and continues her initial train of conversation, upon gazing at your expectant and somewhat confused stare.
"The Velvet Room is...how should I say...a breach between reality and fantasy, between worlds, universes and dimensions. It always takes a different form, as do its attendants, however, it only shows itself to those who possess a certain..." She looks you up and down, from ears to tail. You blush slightly beneath her scrutinizing gaze. "Quality. Qualities that I believe you possess."
Upon finishing your second cup of tea, a warm feeling begins to spread out from your tummy, all the way up to your throat. You can speak! You ask the strange mare what these "qualities" happen to be, however she does not have an answer for you, instead she stares off into the distance cryptically, frustrating you a little. This carries on for a full five minutes, and before the silence in the room starts to become too unbearable for you, she replies.
"I do not know."
You echo her words incredulously, and she refills your teacup again, slightly absent-mindedly. The spout of tea gushing out the pot hits the cushion you have been hugging for comfort, and if it weren't there, she would have poured boiling hot tea straight onto your extremities. You silently praise the cushion, a tasseled, patchwork, very fluffy miracle. The mare apologizes, and wipes down your pillow with the corner of her frilly layered dress, before resuming the aura of cryptic calm that you are slowly getting accustomed to.
"That is true. I do not know why individuals like you are brought to the Room. I only know that individuals that live up to their potential, assisted by this Room's help end up finding true happiness. And that is a goal that I am most happy to see anyone achieve."
She waves her hoof, and your pink flowery friend, the teacups and the biscuits vanish in a puff of rose-scented smoke. You're almost sad to see them go, but your lamentations are cut short when the mare addresses you directly, and for the first time, you notice that her eyes are an uncannily bright shade of gold, gleaming in the semi dark of the Velvet Room carriage. Her expression is hard to read, no doubt made harder by the veil concealing half her features. But beneath the veil and through the fierceness of her eye contact, you know somewhere deep down that she genuinely means what she says.
"This is for you. To remember your first time here by, and to reach the Room should you ever require our help."
From within the folds of her dress, she produces a strange key. It is golden and notched, and she presses it insistently into your hoof.
"The time will come soon enough when you will realize how to use it." She smiles wryly, and her voice lowers to an almost seductive purr.
"And when you do, you will return here of your own accord, and we will talk again, perhaps of matters more important than the ones that present itself before you at this present moment."
The carriage rumbles to a halt, and the door opens. Before you step out, into the field beneath the starry night, you turn around to look at the mare one last time. Many questions, queries rise up and stick in your throat, but in your confused state you only manage to hurriedly and slightly awkwardly blurt out one. She doesn't seem to mind the delivery of your question, and she merely smiles, and answers, as she carriage slowly rides away, throwing up a small cloud of dust.
"My name?"
She ponders this ominously for a moment.
Call me Shelle.
You wake with a violent start, hissing as a sunbeam hits you straight in the sleepy face. What time is it? Midday? The ground beneath you is shaking with an all-too-familiar rhythm...Could it be? You stand up abruptly with a smack of your hooves, spilling the coffee you had in your lap and startling the other passengers of the train you are on.
You ninny.
In any case, you collect your wits about yourself and ponder the ramifications of the strange dream you just had, while sitting down again slowly and trying to not look like too much of an oaf. What that one old pony at the station had said about the unpleasant side effects of consuming railway bourbon and railway sandwiches at the same time echoes in your ears. In fact, you can almost hear him snickering away at your current predicament. Oh, wait.
You can.
Because he's right next to you.
"Bad dream?" He laughs, offering you his handkerchief to dry off your violently coffee-stained luggage. You then notice your violently coffee-stained luggage, and proceed to have a conniption fit.
"What's the matter, kid?"
1: MY CLOTHES!
2: MY WEAPONS!
3: MY PRINCESS LUNA ACTION FIGURES!
1: You proceed to dump the contents of your luggage all over the floor of your cubicle, obsessively scanning your varied and sexually deviant wardrobe for any sort of coffee-induced marring. You unfold and refold your tuxedoes, and sniff at your fashionable Twin Sisters(tm) underwear for any signs at its transformation into a roasty, toasty, java-scented abomination. Finding no such faults, you heave a sigh of relief and turn to your aged companion, who has the most insufferable smirk on his face. The nerve! Twin Sisters(tm) pantyhose is all the rage back home! Shame on his unfashionable geriatric soul! Charm +5.
2: You proceed to dump the contents of your luggage (Which you had managed to barely sneak past railroad security under the pretense that you were a 'Dragon Dentist'), all over the floor of your cubicle with a cacophony of metallic clanging. You grimace as you realize that one of your shortswords is completely soaked (Just how strong WAS that coffee?!) and you contemplate licking it clean. For one, that would make you look like a very unconvincing psychotic serial killer of coffee mugs and their families, and two, it would also make you look like a complete asshat. Then again, you don't really care about looking like either, so you place your lips to the cold steel, and carefully scour the surface of the blade with your tongue. Your gaze pans across the room while you do so, daring anypony to judge you while you clean your holy of holies. A mare covers her little colt's eyes, and a baby filly begins to cry. And that young mare sitting in the corner is...Wait, is she writing down her address on her foreleg for you? You grin with coffee-stained teeth, as your Courage increases by 5.
3: You proceed to dump the contents of your luggage all over the floor of your cubicle and for a moment, time halts for you as you lovingly gaze upon your collection of Princess Luna memorabilia. There isn't a lot of it, most of your stash having only been manufactured in the past few months for a publicity stint, but you don't care. You smile dreamily as Tickle-Me-Luna and Beach Luna smile right back at you. You gather up a few of your Princess of the Night T-Shirts, a little suspicious of the chocolate-colored one, as you have absolutely no idea whether it's been soiled or not. Nevertheless, you somehow inexplicably fit all twenty-seven collectible figurines, five T-shirts and body-length Luna Snuggle Pillow into your tiny suitcase, but not before giving said pillow a huge squeeze. You are a creep. But a knowledgeable one at least, and as your geriatric aquaintance stares at you in thinly veiled revulsion, your Finesse increases by 5.
You pack the last few items into your luggage, lock it up, and give it a few good stomps with your hoof to make sure it doesn't burst open. And fearing the hot beverage-related hazards of the real world, you hastily stow away your luggage in the overhead carriage, smiling as naturally as you can, as if half the train didn't just see your hyperventilating, frenzied rescue mission of your personal belongings. All is well, you think, and you slink back into your seat next to the old pony.
"You're one strange young...ma...co...Excuse me, young pony, but are you a boy or a girl?"
"I get that a lot. Guess."
Your response is deadpan, and you try to keep a straight face as you quietly observe the spires and alabaster columns of the shimmering city of Canterlot slide into view from behind a monolith of gray, a welcome sight among five hours of nothing but tunnels, grassy fields and dreams of grassy fields. You shiver a little in anticipation, and your hoof subconsciously raises itself to your coat pocket, where your invitation card lies secure. A faint smile graces your lips, which blooms into a full blown grin as the excitement of what is in store for you takes your heart by storm.
"I'm Oak," The old pony says, not that you had asked, breaking you out of your delightful trance. You nod slowly, unsure of where he's going with this. If he turns out to be another one of those Encyclopaedia Equestria salesponies, you think to yourself, you are going to throw him out the train window and jump out after him, screaming bloody murder. Seventeen is enough for one weekend. You scan his luggage overhead for any signs of objects even vaguely reminiscent of encyclopaedii. After seeing that the only things he has on his person are two slim red books, hardly of encyclopaedia level thickness, you turn back to him to tune back in to his lengthy explanation as to who he is and what he does. You sigh and smile a bit wearily. Canterlot's already in sight, you might as well listen to what the chap has to say. "I'm a professor," He says brightly, his hazel eyes positively gleaming behind his glasses. "I study creatures and mythical monsters in Equestria, and Princess Celestia has summoned me to court to present my findings to her group of advisors!" He smiles kindly, and you can see that clearly, this old pony must be very informed to be granted an audience with the Princess's elite minds. "But that's enough about me, kid, what's your name? What do you do for a living around these parts?"
You're obviously not going to tell him your real name, that would be middle-school levels of dumb. You swallow, and take a deep breath.
"I'm..."
1: Twilight Sparkle.
2: The Reaper.
3: The very best, like nopony ever was.
1: "Good afternoon. My name is Twilight Sparkle," You tell Oak, eliciting a rather unpredictable response in the elderly gent. He instantly drops to his knees and grovels, a look of horror upon his aged features.
"Oh, Princess Twilight," He simpers. "It is truly an honor to meet you in the flesh! A thousand apologies for my earlier behavior, I did not recognise you! You look so different in person than you do in the newspapers, I did not realize-" This is fun. You decide to let the quivering professor kiss your hooves, while you pretend to issue a royal pardon upon him, mainly consisting of you waving your hoof over his head and making swooshing noises with your mouth. He seems to buy it, and gets up at your command, dusting off his worn lab coat. Reaching overhead, he takes down one of the red books stowed away in the shelf above him, and hands it to you. "It's not much," He says, "But take it. It is one of two copies of my compendium of monster information, and I hope your Highness may accept this humble gift in compensation for my earlier misconduct." You accept his gift as graciously as a Princess would, placing the little ledger inside your coat and touching his forehead gently. You dub him a Knight, and he bows thrice more as the train screeches to a halt, and gathering his wits and the last remaining book, Oak scrambles out the train, tail tucked between his hind legs. You truly are a Grade-A sociopath. A convincing one, nonetheless. Your Courage increases by 5, and you get a new item, Oak's Ledger. Keep track of what items you have, adventurer. You never know when one might save your life...or land you in the sack with the pony of your dreams.
2: Oak is aghast, and he edges away from you slightly. "The...Reaper? As in, the adventurer?" He pauses, lost for words. "What business might you have in Canterlot?" He glances from side to side, and shakes his head, as though there were flies buzzing around it. "Never mind, forget I asked." He lowers his voice to a conspirational whisper. "Personally, I'd like to thank you, Mister Reaper. Without your exploits, I'd never be able to obtain the samples of Hydra venom or Fae saliva to properly analyze for my compendium. You could say I'm a bit of a fan, really." He rolls up his sleeve to show a poorly, probably self-done tattoo of your cutie mark on his forearm. You pity the poor soul, your cutie mark isn't exactly the most pleasant or simple one to have tattooed on one's forearm. In fact, it's even a bit of a stretch to call it a Cutie mark. Nonetheless, you deal with this professionally, and after ascertaining your identity by showing him your cutie mark and autographing both of his red books, Oak hands you one reverently. "None of this would have been possible without you, Reaper. Here, you may already know most of this, but it may come in handy nonetheless." As the train screeches to a halt, Oak puts the remaining, now autographed ledger within the depths of his ratty lab coat, and winks at you as he walks away from Canterlot Station. "Good luck, adventurer, and happy hunting." Your Charm increases by 5 as you get a new item, Oak's Ledger. Keep track of what items you have, adventurer. You never know when one might save your life...or land you in the sack with the pony of your dreams.
3: Oak frowns at you, as though he'd heard those words before. "Strange..." He muses. "You remind me strongly of a friend of my grandson's. A friend I am also on the way to meet, in fact. But forgive the ramblings of an old pony. Such familiarity is precious in this changing world, and for that, I think you deserve a present. I believe you are destined for interesting things, strange young pony. And I'm not just talking about the contents of your luggage." You start a little, as Shelle's words echo in your mind once more.
"Potential," She had said.
Oak brings down his two red books from the overhead shelf, and you very consciously flex your throwing hoof. So he WAS an encyclopaedia salesman! However, the train has stopped, and a half-meter fall from the window to the platform wouldn't be very lethal. Maybe the broken glass might...? However, Oak offers you a book for free, and you gleefully accept, all too happy not to be regaled with the Ten Thousand Reasons Why You Can't Live Without an Encyclopaedia and a hefty pricetag to boot. Without another word, Oak leaves the train with the remaining book, smiling over his shoulder at you as he departs with the pony that had met him at the platform: A young stallion, with a striking red cap. Your resolve to become better, better than nopony ever was, suddenly spikes, as your Finesse increases by 5 and you bag a new item, the Oak's Ledger. Keep track of what items you have, adventurer. You never know when one might save your life...or land you in the sack with the pony of your dreams.
Canterlot Station is as busy as it is loud. You drag your luggage through the crowd, spilling a few drinks and stepping on a few hooves as you go. You flash the ticket in your pocket, and murmur your name, and the guardsponies let you through to the city, your purpose clear to them. You are here in Canterlot on business: Very serious business. Your objectives are simple, and you have absolutely every intention of following it through.
A heated toothy grin fueled by impure thoughts dimples your cheeks.
You are to spend an entire day and night with Princess Celestia and Luna, who have taken a day off just for you, the winner of their newly installed newspaper competition, where one lucky winner every year gets to spend an entire day and night in the company of two of the most drop-dead gorgeous ponies in all of Equestria. You wonder to what extent "company" adheres to. Sure enough, meals and games were guaranteed, but what about baths? What about sleeping? You drool at the thought of Celestia and Luna's hooves wrapped warmly about your body as they slumber next to you in Celestia's double king-sized bed, dressed in negligee you've only ever seen in Playcolt magazines and your hormone-addled dreams as a teenager. Suddenly, you wish the word "company" was completely omitted from the details of your winnings, leaving behind a much more desirable senten-
Okay, you should really get going.
Besides, you think to yourself, as you walk off in the general direction of the castle, what you were getting was more than most ponies ever got in a lifetime.
Canterlot Castle is really far away.
At a local coffee lounge, you figure that the postcard company was a part of some misogynistic, misanthropic sadist organization that decided to make Canterlot Castle look like it was two steps away from the train station in their little oblong placards of doom, whereas in actual fact, you've been walking for about two hours, and you're still less than halfway there. You panic a little inside and wonder if your late arrival will mean Celestia and Luna slashing off time from your period of togetherness. You imagine showing up to the castle, with the moon already peeking over the horizon, and being told that your time's up by the Royal Pony Sisters themselves. You can almost hear the drawbridge slamming shut, tears in your eyes as you hear Celestia and Luna head up to a bedroom and their vulgar, passionate exclamations of pleasure as they vigorously fornicate. Without you.
The horror. The terrible, sexless horror.
Your libido and determination shoot through the roof as you pay the waitress for your hastily-gulped down drink, with a pained and constipated look on your face as you wrestle with your inner demon for control of the voice in your loins, and dash off, upsetting two tables and a chair as you go. The other patrons of the lounge give you disapproving looks, while a single colt, who recognizes the particular type of agony written on your face, pumps his hoof and yells encouragement at you. Ironically, this is the only colt in the lounge with his marefriend with him.
With more adrenaline pumping through your veins than a hamster on steroids, you eventually make it to Canterlot, albeit in a sweating, crumpled mess in front of the gates. Hardly an impressive first impression, however at this point you're just glad you managed to make it this far. You hand the guard closest to you your credentials and your winning ticket, and he lets you through, though somewhat warily, as "Dragon Dentist", "Mercenary" and for some reason only you can explain, "Apprentice Pastry Chef" are among other oddities in your job history. And before you can even go to the toilet sixteen times to fix your mane in the mirror and practice your greeting, Princess Celestia walks out through the great double doors towards you, and your first instinct is to run for the hills. She's as beautiful as you've imagined, and more: She seems to have dolled herself up just for your arrival. Her ethereal mane is pleated into a thick plait threaded with gold ribbon, and...is that lipstick? Eyeliner? Is that a dress she's wearing? And at that moment, you think your heart must have stopped for a few seconds. And it probably did, because when you look up, Celestia is standing right next to you, and the two of you are already walking through one of the opulent, painting lined hallways of Canterlot Castle. Dazed, you ask, "Did...did I greet you right?"
Celestia turns down to you, and smiles, shortening your time between now and a fatal heart attack by a few years. "Yes, you did wonderfully, however it wasn't something you didn't have to worry about in the first place. After you got up after tripping twice over your own suitcase, that is."
You're not even beginning to question where your luggage is, for you're still too busy trying to psychokinetically set yourself on fire. The two of you proceed down the hallway towards wherever Celestia is taking you, exchanging pleasantries along the way, or at least, pleasantries on her end, and nervous, shaky nods on yours. You mentally slap yourself; Celestia's probably already noticed your nervousness by now, and you were trying to leave a cool impression on her from the moment you stepped off that dreadful train. Fat chance of that happening now, you mutter, as you follow Celestia into a room through a pair of great oaken double doors.
An irresistable aroma wafts through the air towards you, and it's not just Celestia's perfume. Before you is a dinner table, heavy with platters upon platters of assorted food, ranging from salads to soups, snacks and desserts. Magical candles float back and forth along the table, the spectral flames burning in the mane colors of Celestia, Luna, and with no small amount of shock, you realize: yours. Sharply dressed maid and butler ponies stand at attention like sentinels at every corner of the room. Celestia takes her seat at the head of the table and beckons for you to sit. You take the seat closest to her, only for a maid pony to exclaim loudly in an annoyingly high-pitched whine.
"Excuse me, but that seat-"
She was silenced with a gesture from Celestia, who smiles wryly at you.
"No, Feather Duster, let our guest sit next to me. Besides, I want to see how she will react to this."
You sit yourself down, and notice how ridiculously comfortable the chair is. You could sleep in the thing, and from that day on, your bed would never feel the same again. Celestia notices your comfort, and seems to be pleased that you're finally loosening up around her. She lowers her gaze to her food, and then to you, silently requesting for you to take the first bite. After all, you are her guest. You lick your lips, and reach for your utensils: It would only be proper for a guest of royalty to act the part, no? You look down at the purple napkin in front of you, and the world promptly crashes around your ears.
Why do you have four forks? What is this, six spoons? FIVE KNIVES WHAT IS THIS ARGH-You calm yourself down, and stare at the torturer's armory in front of you. Alright. Forks. You want to have some pancake. So you have to pick a fork. Ruling out the fork with serrated edges you assume is for ending the misery of any of your foods that happens to be still alive, you have three fork choices. Which will you choose?
1: The thick, two-tined fork.
2: The slim, three-tined fork.
3: The fork with the word "Pancakes" ominously engraved on it. (Requires Courage 10)
1: You pick up the two-tined fork, and begin eating your pancakes with it. The pancakes are delicious, served with fresh jam and creamy butter, and you nervously look over to Celestia to see if you're doing things right. Celestia is eating her pancakes with...you guessed it, a two-tined fork! She stops eating for a moment, and smiles at you, waving with her two-tined fork. You blush, looking down at your food, and take a big bite of pancake, immensely pleased with yourself. Finesse increases by 5.
2: You pick up the three-tined fork, and begin eating your pancakes with it. The pancakes are delicious, served with fresh jam and creamy butter, and you nervously look over to Celestia to see if you're doing things right . Wait, her fork isn't anywhere near her mouth! Instead, said fork, impaled through several layers of fluffy pancake, is presented before you in a yellow telekinetic grip, while Celestia smiles from her seat. "You aren't eating your pancakes with our homemade syrup. It's really quite good, my little pony. Try some?" Holy sweet mother of all that is holy. Celestia, the latter mother, is feeding you. Pancakes. You bite the pancakes off her fork, chewing slowly, enjoying the flavor as your mind gets to work, burning the memory into every single orifice of your mind. You can die happy now, you think to yourself, as you reluctantly swallow, ending the beautiful moment. This act has increased your confidence, as you can now walk the streets and brag that once, you were forked by a Princess. And if you slur that one word just a little, you might be able to get even more awe out of your captive audience. Your Courage increases by 5.
3: "You have a fork labeled Pancakes? Is that even necessary?" You state incredulously, brandishing the offending utensil in front of your face. Celestia looks genuinely confused. "Here, pass it over." You hand the fork to Celestia, who turns the fork over in her telekinesis, wearing a pensive expression. "I see." She hands the fork over to one of the maid ponies. "Lolita, send this back to the kitchen. It appears Pancake Batter has been mixing up his belongings again." Celestia looks apologetically at you, and levitates a fork from her own menagerie of eating equipment to you. "Here, you can use my pancake fork." Sure enough, the fork has the word "Pancakes" engraved on it as well, except in gold, with the "A"s stylized to resemble Celestia's cutie mark. You stare in disbelief at the implement, and slowly start eating your breakfast. Celestia winks at you out of the corner of your eye, and you feel like you've suddenly become the butt of a macabre joke. Nevertheless, your forthrightness in pointing out the inefficacy of the Pancake Fork has amused Celestia, and hence, your Charm increases by 5 points.
"Sho," Celestia says through a mouth of French toast. She catches herself, swallows, and continues. You don't notice her slip-up; you're too busy dismembering your bacon with Knife Three and Fork Two. "So, I hear you're an adventurer by trade?"
"Adventurer" might be pushing it a little, you explain. You like to call yourself an "Exotic Pest Exterminator", because it sounds less ridiculous to you than the cliched, storybook archetype of the ubiquitous "Adventurer". You specialize in the removal of troublesome mythical beasts and animals, at least those that can't be taken care of by conventional means. And by conventional means, your parameters are generally anything that can't be scared off with a quick spritz of pepper spray in the eye, or anything slightly bigger or the same size as a house. You take care not to glorify yourself too much, but Celestia seems genuinely interested in what you have to say. Soon enough, you find yourself enthusiastically recounting stories of your exploits to your eager, unlikely listener, whom at times smiles knowlingly or nods gently in response to your sudden outburst of nostalgic exuberance.
"...And then I made its head explode! Both of them!" You finish proudly, waving around Fork Three, a cut of roast aptly stuck onto it. You take a deep breath, and a drink of water as Celestia claps appreciatively.
"Well spoken, adventurer," She laughs for the first time in your presence that day; a pure sound, like glass bells being gently tolled by a passing breeze. "You must forgive me; It's been well over a decade since I've had any pony regale me with tales of danger and intrigue. I supposedly have a Royal Storyteller for this exact same purpose, but everypony knows that he gets all his material from those trashy romance novels the shop down the road sells, and trust me, stories where nopony dies and where the colt always gets the mare truly do get old after a while," Celestia takes a long draught from her goblet and hiccups rather uncharacteristically.
"Are you drinking, Princess? It's only eleven in th-"
Celestia's chair tips backwards and teeters from back to front as she jerks forwards and covers your mouth with her hoof. Your face flushes visibly, inches away from hers, as Celestia reassures her maids and butlers that she had simply seen something on your cheek, and was wiping it off for you. If they found this behavior suspicious or uncanny, the servants certainly put up a good show of not making it apparent to the Princess and her guest. Celestia slowly sets herself back into her seat, while you gently touch your lips where Celestia had her hoof pressed against them. A slight metallic tang remains, and you distract yourself by tearing into a dinner roll.
"Pardon me for that, but I panicked. Perhaps I should have gone for the more natural approach, no?"
You spew a hunk of bread across the room at the telepathic contact, while a maid pony stares disapprovingly at you as she wipes your mess off of the front of her blouse. It feels as though a damp cloth has slithered over your mind, and through it, Celestia's voice echoes. "Apologies," Celestia explains wordlessly, as she takes a bite of her breakfast and downs it with another sip from her goblet. "My dieticians would have my head on a sadly very non-metaphorical silver platter if they realized I've been abusing spacial distortion magic to fill my goblet with a drink stiffer than the usual orange juice."
You question her why, mentally, of course, so it wouldn't appear that the good Princess was blatantly ignoring you. Celestia's telepathic voice is softer and her Canterlot accent less pronounced. You wonder which, spoken or thought, would happen to be what her true voice sounds like, beneath the necessary facade of a ruler.
"Why? I don't do it all the time, but maybe I thought I'd cut a little loose today, what with your arrival and all that. Nowhere near enough to get me drunk, but just enough that I forget I'm a Princess. So I can relax for a change. You do realize this is the first day off I've voluntarily taken in centuries, no? Luna and I both decided this competition would be a great way to sneak in some break time, and to better understand the thinking of the young, promising ponies of this day and age. That's why we chose you."
"You mean I wasn't chosen because of a lucky draw?"
Celestia takes another sip, smiling out of the corner of her eye.
"How is the food, adventurer? Is everything to your liking?"
"Yes, ma'am."
Celestia smiles out of the corner of her mouth, her mirth-filled eyes betraying herself.
"Well, sort of. Luna and I had picked five ponies each, and we decided on you after a few hours of deliberation."
"Why me?"
Celestia snorts abruptly, and as soon as she did, disguises it as a cough. She smacks her chest briskly twice to clear up her airway, and calmly continues to eat.
"Well, frankly because you looked the most harmless."
You feel unsure as to whether you've been complimented or insulted. But you take this in good stead, and continue your line of inquisition.
"Harmless? Have you seen my cutie mark?"
"Oh, yes, we did. In detail, in fact. Luna was very impressed, even though she tried not to show it. She's always been a huge stickler for tradition. She misses the Golden Age, as she and she alone calls it, where we poured boiling oil down our castle walls to protect ourselves from the Griffin insurgents, the Battle for Ornith Keep and all that ancient history you've probably studied in Magic University," Celestia explains.
You don't quite know how to describe it, but at that moment, you see a light fade in her eyes. Celestia stares into space, alarmingly still, so statuesque in both height and immobility that you are unsure that she's even breathing. She jolts out of her trance soon enough, though, although the twinkle in her eye that she had when she was listening to you speak has vanished. You wonder what might have happened to trigger such a delibitating reaction in the Princess, but you have hardly any time to ponder, as you hear a commanding voice behind you yell something about "Thy chair" and "fiends", and in a split second, you are tackled to the floor by a crushing force.
You are trapped beneath something heavy, breathing and warm, with your face completely smothered in soft, downy fur. You smell a scent vaguely remiscent of black cherries and soap, and with a slow, horrible realization, you, blind as a bat, ascertain the identity of your attacker by olfactory sense alone.
"MMMTHHHSS MMMMNAAA!"
You manage to scream her name, albeit very muffled with your head trapped in plushy royal hell.
"Luna! I'm not going to repeat myself, get off of our guest's face at once!" You hear Celestia snap, her getting up and finally, Celestia's expression as light returns to your world: A curious mix of exasperation and apology. This time one of the maid ponies lets loose a snicker, but she gets caught instantly and sent out of the room. Too bad for her: You get to pay witness to the very strange sight of a very upset Princess Luna suspended upside down by her hindquarters by a very confused Princess Celestia, who promptly shoves Luna into the seat opposite yours. Luna pouts while staring at you disapprovingly, her gaze shifting from your outfit to her sister, and then back to you.
"Celestia, our 'guest' hath stolen our seat at thy banquet."
Celestia rubs her temple subconsciously with her left hoof, while taking another deep drink.
"It's not the guest's fault, Luna. I did not divulge your silly little obsession with that particular chair on purpose as to test your self control. And judging by the coffee stains on our guest's once pristine robes, you have failed. Miserably." Noticing said stain, you yelp and start vigorously dabbing at your top with the corner of the tablecloth. Celestia touches your hoof and reassures you that she will have her royal tailors make you a new outfit by the next morning. She turns back to her sister, her look of disapproval still lingering.
"Luna, apologize."
"Why should I?" The reply was painfully curt, and right now you wish that you could step out of the room and take a breather; You want no part of this potential superpowered alicorn brawl. Although, it would be kind of hot...No. Bad you. You banish those thoughts to the deepest annals of your mind as the conversation between the two sisters escalates.
"Words cannot express how sorry and ashamed I am as a host that you have to see this," Celestia mindspeaks to you while shooting you a brief glance.
"Luna, I'm warning you. Apologize to the young pony now, or you're going to resume your duties for the rest of the day. Be a good host, or not one at all. Your choice, Luna."
"Why couldn't you have told me that through telepathy?"
"Because I wanted our guest to see how much of a brat you've been acting like for the past few months!" Celestia gasps as soon as she realizes what she just said out loud, and drops her fork, clapping a hoof to her mouth as tears threaten to well up in her eyes. When she speaks again, her voice is cracked, and riddled through with regret.
"Luna...I'm so sorr-"
The Lunar Princess gets up from her seat and pushes away her breakfast in tranquil fury, politely bowing to the butlers, who bow back, Celestia, and finally, in a sardonic, sweeping motion, you. You feel a chill dance down your spine as her emerald steel meets your own. "If anypony needs us, your Princess shall be in our quarters. Except for thou, Celestia. Thou can stayeth away from us now that thou hath thoroughly humiliated thine own sister in front of commoners and our serfs." She exits the room in a swish of mane and a blur of blue as she teleports as soon as the door begins to close on her.
Celestia slumps back in her seat, and with a single gesture, the butler and maid ponies exit the room after the upset Princess, leaving you two alone. She reaches out for her jewel-encrusted goblet, presumably to take another long drink to curb her angst from the recent spat. What should you do, or say to make things better?
1: Is she always like this?
2: Don't cry, Princess.
3: *You reach over and touch Celestia lightly on the shoulder, shaking your head slowly as you do so.* Requires Charm 10.
1: Celestia stares disgustedly at the contents of her goblet, and puts it down. You see her trying to salvage the remainder of your preconcieved image of her: That of a very attractive, but serious and professional politician. She fails horribly at putting her game face on, and Celestia frowns, and looks at you expectantly, almost as if she wants you to answer your own question. "She has been for a long time. But no. Luna wasn't always as wilful as she is now." She leans back, and laughs nervously and unconvincingly, wiping her nose with a napkin.
"If Luna's Golden Age was that of a medieval battlefield where the strongest and smartest reigned supreme, my Golden Age would be that of the times where I had a sister that at least acted like she loved me," She finishes quietly, blowing on the napkin. Celestia smiles again, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "Why am I even telling you this?" She ponders out loud. "Perchance the alcohol has loosened my tongue. I would never dream of acting like I do now at Day Court, the very thought abhors me. I shouldn't even be telling you these things, I don't even-" She stops, and her wry smile startles you. You see a faint pink tint adorn her cheeks, very unsure as to whether it's a genuine blush or some fortunate side effect of her booze. But it does bring a lovely rosy color into her otherwise almost unrealistically pale face, beginning to look less like a porcelain doll and more like a real pony.
"If you promise to keep whatever you've seen here a secret, I'll arrange for more meetings like this in the near future. No concrete promises on my end, I'm very possibly the busiest mare in Equestria. But I enjoy speaking with you. I could very well dismiss it as the alcohol talking, but you're deceptively apt at unraveling my tongue for such a good listener. Perhaps you can help me glean a greater insight into how young ponies like you think, and just perhaps, I may be able to use this knowledge to help my sister." Courage increases by 5.
2: "Wh...what? I'm not...?" The flush in Celestia's cheeks deepens, as she vigorously rubs at her eyes with her napkin. "N...no. No. No.", her voice regaining a fragment of regality and control with each syllable. It still isn't enough to hide her eyes, though. They remain soulful and sad, and you want to reach out to her, however your own limbs betray you as you comfort the Princess as best as you can.
"If Luna's Golden Age was that of a medieval battlefield where the strongest and smartest reigned supreme, my Golden Age would be that of the times where I had a sister that at least acted like she loved me," She finishes quietly, blowing on the napkin. Celestia smiles again, the expression not quite reaching her eyes. "Why am I even telling you this?" She ponders out loud. "Perchance the alcohol has loosened my tongue. I would never dream of acting like I do now at Day Court, the very thought abhors me. I shouldn't even be telling you these things, I don't even-" She stops, and her wry smile startles you. You see a faint pink tint adorn her cheeks, very unsure as to whether it's a genuine blush or some fortunate side effect of her booze. But it does bring a lovely rosy color into her otherwise almost unrealistically pale face, beginning to look less like a porcelain doll and more like a real pony.
"If you promise to keep whatever you've seen here a secret, I'll arrange for more meetings like this in the near future. No concrete promises on my end, I'm very possibly the busiest mare in Equestria. But I enjoy speaking with you. I could very well dismiss it as the alcohol talking, but you're deceptively apt at unraveling my tongue for such a good listener. Perhaps you can help me glean a greater insight into how young ponies like you think, and just perhaps, I may be able to use this knowledge to help my sister." Charm increases by 5.
3: Celestia shies away at the contact, whether consciously or not you have no idea. She looks at your stern yet morose expression, and with a sigh, she puts her goblet down and slides it away from her in a gesture of defeat. "I know, I know. Drinking never really solves anything, and I'm frankly quite ashamed that I even considered it for half a second back then. But thank you," She says, touching your outstretched hoof with a her own surprisingly warm metal-clad one. Celestia reclines her head back and laughs nervously for a few moments, before addressing you again. "Forgive me, but this has been a rough week for me. The crown has been rather heavy on my shoulders as of late, and I do hope my candidness and honesty will not ruin your own image of your Princess. In these few hours I've acted more rashly and uncouthly than I have in decades, at least, in public, that is. Perhaps it's my body's way of telling me that this day off is more than a little overdue." Celestia smiles weakly, unwrapping an after-dinner mint and popping it into her mouth.
"I have a proposition for you, young pony." You lean in, and Celestia whispers in your ear, although there is nopony in particular around the two of you to hear.
"If you promise to keep whatever you've seen here a secret, I'll arrange for more meetings like this in the near future. No concrete promises on my end, I'm very possibly the busiest mare in Equestria. But I enjoy speaking with you. I could very well dismiss it as the alcohol talking, but you're deceptively apt at unraveling my tongue for such a good listener. Perhaps you can help me glean a greater insight into how young ponies like you think, and just perhaps, I may be able to use this knowledge to help my sister."
You agree, and Celestia beams, and you can sense that it's mostly genuine, an expression that warms your own heart as well. More meetings with the Princess! Deep down you know that the two of you will probably have very few chances to meet, what with Celestia's schedule and the potential scandals that could arise if ponies start to notice your budding friendship with the Princess, but at that point you could have cared less. You could worry about that later.
After all, the two of you still had one whole day together.
Day 1 (Daytime) Complete.
You feel a faint bond between yourself and Celestia...You have unlocked the Princess Celestia Social Link!
Celestia Social Link Rank Up 1. Criteria: Complete Day 1, Daytime.
Celestia Social Event Unlocked: What Does Trollestia Mean?
