> Bloodborne: The Endless Nightmare
>  by MadMaxtheBlack
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prologue: All Signed and Sealed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	You groan in pain.

Your entire body aches and your limbs feel useless and heavy. A deep throb courses through your body, pulsing in time with your heartbeat. Lying upon a cot, you can only stare up at the stained wooden ceiling above you. A lantern hangs from a hook beside the cot, casting a halo of dim light about your body and partially driving away the gloom. The floor vibrates beneath you, and the faint whine of propeller engines can be heard. That is the only indication you have that the airship is still moving, as there aren’t any windows located within the room. No clock either, much to your displeasure.

The room itself is dimly lit, candles dotting the few cluttered tables and shelves present. A second medical cot—empty save for a thin blanket-like cover—rests beside you. Bookshelves line two of the walls, packed full of tomes of different sizes and ages. The third wall has diagrams of pony anatomy, sketches, and medical charts pinned to it. In the corner, if you crane your head around just enough, you can see a small desk and chair. In moving your body though, you incite more discomfort, so, with a groan, you lie your head back down and close your eyes. 

As you rest, your mind begins to drift.

This has been your condition for the past three days. For three days you have laid upon this cot, and for three days you could do nothing else but grunt and groan. You aren’t entirely sure what is going on; your memory is hazy and it seems that certain pieces are missing. A few bits manage to make it through the fog however. Afflicted by a unique disease, you are journeying to a distant land in search of a cure. You are unsure if they can help you, but at this point you are willing to put a little faith in the unknown. Anything to get the pain to stop. It’s never been this bad before, but for some reason your condition has worsened as of late to the point where it is restricting your movement and life. Now, with a high fever and barely able to move, you can only wait for something—anything—to happen.

You are forced from your daze when a sudden bout of turbulence causes the airship to shake, and you groan as another throb tears through your body. Okay, anything but that. You want anything but that to happen.

The airship shakes again before seeming to drop a few feet in the air. The action nearly causes you to fall from the cot. You grunt in discomfort, adding a feeling of nausea to your list of complaints. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath to try and calm your stomach. You were never one for flying, and the last thing you want to do right now is throw up. Especially seeing as you could barely turn your head.

The ship shakes for a third time before leveling out. You let out a shaky breath, relief slowly spreading through you. Must have been some serious turbulence. Hopefully you aren’t heading into a storm or anything like that. With no pegasi to contain the weather, massive hurricanes are not unheard of this far out at sea. Actually, now that you think about it, you aren’t sure if you are even over the sea anymore. You have no clue where you are. How much longer do you have to go before you reach your destination? And why has nopony come to see you yet? After three days, you’d think somepony would have popped in to check on you. 

Do… do they even know you’re down here?

…

O-of course they do. It was the crew that had wheeled you down here in the first place, right? Something about this being the medical room. It wasn’t like they had decided to quarantine you or anything like that. Your disease wasn’t contagious, just an annoyance. You’re sure somepony will be around shortly to see to you… right?

For several minutes you lie there, staring at the ceiling as your mind races from one possible situation to the next. Fear slowly wells up inside of you as you jump to more and more outlandish conclusions. You have just about convinced yourself that they are going to cut you up and harvest your organs when your ears pick up a faint squeaking noise coming from the other side of the door, which is open a crack. Ears perked, you listen intently as the sound grows steadily louder until whatever it is stops just outside the room. There’s a pause before the door swings open.

Painfully craning your neck about, you watch silently as a wizened pony enters. He’s impossible old, almost to the point of being a mobile corpse. Shrouded in a dark red cloak as old as he is, you can only see his face and hooves. A horn juts forth from his forehead, chipped and cracked with age. Hunched over in a wheelchair, he rolls along by turning the wheels with his magic. A frosted lantern hangs from the back of the chair, casting a dim yellow aura around the stallion.

As he moves through the room towards you, he picks up a clipboard off one of the tables with his magic. Giving it a quick look, he hums softly. 

“Oh, yes… Rustmana...” he says as he reads over your medical charts. Which is an impressive feat, seeing as he has a roll of bandages covering his eyes. The old unicorn lets out a weak laugh before continuing. “Well, you’ve come to the right place.” Placing the clipboard back down on a different table this time, he wheels himself over to a small group of cupboards and begins to rummage around.

You don’t know why, but the unicorn is starting to make you feel uneasy.

The sound of clinking glass fills the room as the unicorn begins to pull forth various bottles and containers from the cupboards, placing them upon his covered lap. From your position you cannot get a good look at what he has, but you can hear the faint sound of liquid sloshing about. The cupboards close with a snap, and the sound of squeaking wheels begins again.

You jump slightly when the stallion suddenly appears beside your cot, just barely outside the light of the lantern above you.

“Equestria is the home of arcane ministration,” he says, staring down at you somehow through the bandages. “Cures and fixes for all things magical and occult. All you need to do is unravel its mystery. But,” he clicks his tongue thoughtfully, “where’s an Outsider like yourself to begin?” He pauses, as if expecting you to answer.

You don’t. 

You just lie there, confused and in pain.

“Easy,” the stallion continues after a few awkward seconds as if nothing has happened. Leaning forward, his ancient face enters the halo of light cast by the lantern above. His lips pull back in a smile, exposing cracked and yellowing teeth. 

“With a bit of arcane blood of your own…” he wheezes before holding up a large bottle in his hoof. Within, a viscous blue-purple liquid swirls about. It glows softly, small pinpoints of light twinkling about like stars in the night sky. Streaks of black waft about like smoke. The substance is unnaturally beautiful… and unnaturally frightening.

Giving the bottle a small shake, the old unicorn lets out another croak of a laugh. “This will fix you up right as rain. You’ll be back on your hooves in no time.”

Your eyes light up and a smile touches your face. Struggling to lift a hoof, you reach for the bottle, only to be denied as the stallion pulls away.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he tuts, shaking his head. “Not so fast. Nothing gets you nothing. If you want this—” he waved the bottle about again, causing its contents to swirl about at an increased pace “—then you’re going to have to do something for us.”

Letting your hoof drop to the cot, you groan feebly as pain and weariness flash through you. You are in no condition to stand, let alone do any task that this stallion may require of you. Thoughts of paying him off cross your mind, but unfortunately you have no money. Why can’t he just give you the medicine and be done with it? You thought that healthcare was free in this part of the world. 

As if sensing your internal thoughts, the stallion shakes his head. “We would of course cure you before sending you on this errand. Can’t have your condition getting in the way of your job. But we can’t begin administering the… medicine until you’ve agree to help us.”

You nod your head vigorously, eyes never leaving the glowing bottle.

The old stallion clicks his tongue again. “Ah, I’m afraid not. We’re going to need more than just your word on this matter. Don’t assume that we’re blackmailing you, oh no,” he says with a shake of his head. “This is mutually beneficial to all of us. We want to see you get better just as much as you do, friend.” Reaching into his robes, he rummages around for a moment before pulling forth a rolled up scroll. “But first, you’ll need a contract...” Lifting the scroll in his magic, he levitates it in front of your face before unrolling it.

With the light of the lantern shining in your eyes, you have to squint to see the contents of the scroll. Straining your already weak magic, you pick up the ink-covered quill the old stallion offers you and begin to fill out the form. It starts off pretty standard; asking for your name, gender, age, mane colors, coat color, and cutie mark. You fill those out quickly, trying to ignore the drips of ink that fall onto your chest as you write. As you move further down the scroll though, the questions start to get weirder. Origins, voice, skills, pupil sizes, horn length, tattoo/mark/glasses? Why do they need to know this stuff? As your eyes continue to move down the list, your brow begins to furrow in bemusement. Still, you fill out the form truthfully, leaving no question unanswered nor box unfilled.

The minute you finish filling in the last item, the stallion rolls up the scroll with a flourish, ignoring the still drying ink. Tucking the contract back into the folds of his robe, he gives you a lopsided grin. “Good. All signed and sealed. Now, let’s begin the transfusion.” Leaning back in his wheelchair, he turns the glowing bottle upside down before lifting it up and placing it in an IV stand. A clear hose is attached to a small port in the cork of the bottle, and the glowing liquid slowly trickles down the tube towards an IV needle at the other end.

You give the needle an uneasy look. Drinking the liquid you can understand; there are various potions and concoctions from your homeland that have similar appearances. Having that liquid administered directly into your bloodstream however… you aren’t too sure how you feel about that.

Placing a cracked hoof upon your foreleg, the stallion gives you a reassuring pat. “Oh don’t you worry.” Moving faster than you can react too, he presses the needle to your leg and quickly slides it into your vein. There’s a brief second of nothingness, then a soft glow slowly begins to spread out through your veins, originating from the needle.

Almost immediately your vision blurs. The room starts to spin, and you have to lie back in order to stop yourself from throwing up. There’s a rushing in your ears, almost like running water, and the world around you becomes muffled. You try desperately to cling to consciousness, but feel yourself slipping away.

As darkness begins to creep in from the edges of your vision, the old stallion’s face appears above you. The last thing you hear before falling unconscious is the stallion’s wheezing laugh.

“Whatever happens… you may think it all a terrible nightmare…”










> Chapter 01: The Blood-Soaked Knight, Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	You fade in and out of consciousness, unsure of how long you’ve been lying within this room. Days, weeks, months, years, time is not a thing you understand. In the brief moments that you are wake, it feels like your entire body is on fire. Liquid lava flows through your veins, and yet you cannot cry out. Voices—hushed whispers of inaudible words—are your only companions as you walk the fine line between reality and the dreamworld.

Things are happening around you, although you do not know what is real and what is a hallucination. At one point you remember glancing over and seeing a large pool of liquid shadow slowly spreading across the floor. As you watch, a large mass slowly begins to rise from its depths, the darkness dripping from it like tar. The creature glares at you with glowing cyan eyes. With a low growl it lumbers forward, reaching towards you with a massive paw. Right before it touches you however, it bursts into purple flames. The creature howls in pain, flailing its limbs about wildly as the fire slowly consumes it. 

You remember a pony, a white mare with pink mane, dabbing your forehead with a cool cloth. She glances down at you as you moan, concern in her blue eyes. She murmurs something softly to you, brushing your sweaty mane out of your face. You groan again, and she turns and calls out to somepony off to the side. A few seconds later, another cool cloth is placed across your chest. It doesn’t help against the heat.

A third memory, just as hazy as the first few. You awaken to find a bunch of small albino dragons climbing over your body. Their faces are scarred and horrid-looking, their bodies nothing but skeletal husks. You can do nothing as they slowly crawl across your chest and up towards your face. They hiss quietly as they stare down at you, although it does not seem malicious. Even so, beneath their combined weight and mass, you find yourself being slowly smothered. 

As your vision fades, a soft voice whispers from within the back of your mind. 

“Ahh, you’ve found yourself a Bearer…”







—Burgundy’s Clinic—





The sound of dripping water is the first thing your mind notices as you regain consciousness again. It’s a slow drip, happening once every few seconds or so, and you find your ear twitching in time with the plinks. As you lie there, your half-asleep mind slowly drifts back to the horrid visions you saw earlier under the effects of the medicine. The old stallion, creepy as he might be, wasn’t kidding when he said it would be a nightmare. Thank the Goddess it was over though.

And over it is. You can tell almost immediately that the treatment was a success. The constant pain that had been tormenting you for many years is no longer present. Your limbs may be stiff, but you can move them without lances of pain racing through your body. A quick check informs you that your magic flows easily again as well.

Eyes still closed, you allow a smile to spread across your muzzle. You opt to just lie there, silently enjoying the first moments of painless existence you’ve experienced in a long time. The medicine was a godsend, although it wasn’t free.

Your smile fades. You should probably get up and find that stallion again. You signed the contract; you have a job to do. The sooner you finish whatever task he wanted you too, the sooner you can get on with your pain-free life. You might not like it, but you are an honest individual.

But that didn’t mean you had to hurry off to find him. The sound of dripping water is soothing to your weary mind.

You listen to the dripping for a while longer before deciding that it is time to start working off your debt. Cracking open an eye, you glance blearily around. You’re still in the same room as before, lying atop the medical cot. Bandages are wrapped around your left foreleg, a small crimson dot where the IV needle had been stuck into your leg. It is dark now, all the candles having long since burned down to nothing. The lanterns as well are darkened, the wicks inside dry and useless.

Despite the darkness, you can still make out the state of the room around you. Books have been pulled from their shelves and flung upon the floor, their pages strewn about in a chaotic mess. The second medical cot is on its side in the corner, dried blood covering the blanket-like cover. The chairs are tipped over, and several of the desks have been smashed. The medical charts and papers on the wall have been torn to shreds, long claw marks marking up the wood. Several IV stands, all of them containing empty bottles, are scattered throughout the room. Blood covers the floors.

You stare around at the carnage with wide eyes. What in the name of existence happened while you were asleep? Glancing around again, you shake your head before quickly climbing down off the cot.

The minute your hooves touch the floor, you know something is wrong. The vibration that has been a constant for the past three days has stopped. The engines aren’t running, and since you don’t seem to be falling from the sky, you can only assume that the ship has arrived at its destination. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or not. Given the state of the room, it’s probably in your best interest to head up to the upper deck and find a way off the ship. You can search for crewmembers along the way, if any still remain.

You jump as a low groan reverberates throughout the ship, and you feel it list slightly to one side. An uneasy feeling is settling over you, and the hairs on the back of your neck are standing up.

It’s time to leave.

Casting one last glance around the room, you then make for the door. It creaks loudly as it opens, the noise echoing down the corridor on the other side. Like the room, the hallway shows signs of wear. Papers litter the floor, as does other bits of debris such as cups, pieces of wood, clothing, blankets, and—oddly enough—medical bottles. Large claw marks line the walls, the cuts etched deep into the wood. Through the portholes the line the far wall, the last dying light of day shines through, casting a deep orange glow through the round windows.

Walking slowly as to keep the sound of your hoofsteps to a minimum, you creep down the destroyed corridor. You peek into the passing rooms as you go. Each one appears to be similar to the one you were in, although you note that these medical beds appear to have straps on them. The ones in the last room have chains as well, although the chains appear to be broke and lying about the feet of the cots. You don’t want to know what they had previously held, so you move quickly on.

The rest of the interior of the ship is in a similar state of distress. Scratches mar the walls, debris is strewn about, and every now and then you come across a splatter of dried blood. You don’t come across any other living soul however, but you cannot tell if that’s a good thing or not. There’s an eerie silence about the place, one that puts you on edge. It’s so absolute that there’s almost a ringing in your ear to compensate for the lack of sound. You realize that, given the condition of the ship, it’s not unlikely that there is nopony on board anymore to make noise. Still, given that the ship appears to be in one piece, and the fact that the engines aren’t running anymore, you can safely assume you’ve docked in some port somewhere. If that’s the case, shouldn’t there at least be some background chatter from outside? Given the state of the ship, something terrible happened, so it’s not unreasonable to assume that maybe there would be some screaming or shouting, but nope. Only silence, save for the sound of your own hooves against the wood.

Rounding the corner, you make for the companionway leading towards the deck only to freeze, wide-eyed. Slowly, bile begins to rise in your throat. Lying on the floor in front of you are two ponies. At least, what’s left of them that is. Large chunks have been ripped out of their bodies, leaving exposed tissue, organs, and—in some cases—bones. Blood coats the floor and walls, the metallic scent clinging to your nose and making you gag.

You can only stare at the sight before you for a few seconds before it becomes too much. Quickly turning your head to the side, you retch loudly. With nothing in your stomach though, all that comes out is a thin string of bile. Even so, you continue to dry heave a few more times before managing to recover.

Wiping your muzzle with a back of a hoof, you glance back to the bodies. By the Maker, what happened here? You haven’t seen this much blood in once place since… since…

You pause, your brow furrowing as fuzzy memories drift about inside your head. Even with adrenaline pumping through your system, your mind feels almost like it’s still half-asleep; the memories won’t form. You remember seeing a similar scene before, but where? And why? What little flashes of images you can make out do little to help. Screaming ponies, a village on fire, a massive beast amongst the flames. You were a foal back then… no. No, you had been saving a foal. No, that didn’t seem right either. Ugh, why can’t you remember your own past?!

Standing within the pool of blood, you are oblivious to the world around you as you try and piece together memories of a time long ago. You’re so engrossed that you fail to hear the sound of something moving behind you. However, you do hear when that something lets out a horrible, ear-splitting howl.

Whirling around (and nearly slipping on the pool of blood in the process), you gaze in horror at the creature that has crept around the corner behind you. It’s vaguely equine in shape, though it stood twice as high as a normal pony. Its coat is now shaggy and matted, the fur caked with dry blood. The muzzle is elongated and filled with rows of razor-sharp teeth, drool dripping from its pulled-back lips. Blank white eyes stare at you with primal fury.

You barely have time to observe the creature before it suddenly lunges for you with a terrifying snarl. Moving on instincts you didn’t even know you had, you dash to the side and press yourself up against the wall. The creature, already in the air and unable to stop itself, flies by you and smashes head first into a support pillar. Falling to the floor, it grabs its head and writhes about.

Before either of you can move again, a deep groan reverberates through the ship once more. Slowly, with many a creaking and cracking noise, the ship begins to list more to the side until you’re practically standing at an angle. Casting a quick glance out a nearby porthole, you see a sight that causes your ears to splay back and your tail to tuck itself firmly between your legs.

Through the porthole, which was now pointing at a downward angle, you could see the ground… far, far below. From this height, trees looked like little bushes dotting the landscape, their shadows stretched far in the final minutes of sunlight. Whatever the ship was docked at, it was very high up. And apparently very unstable, as, with another groan, the ship continues to tip more and more onto its side.

Forget finding crewmembers; it is definitely time to get off this ship.

Pushing yourself off of the wall, you clamber awkwardly over the mutilated bodies and head towards the ladder to the upper deck. The creature, having since recovered, lets out another howl before giving pursuit. It smashes into the walls of the corridor as it runs, each impact causing the ship to list more and more. You can hear whatever’s holding the ship in place straining under the stress, creaks and groans echoing through the halls. The noise makes you go faster, desperate to get off the ship before it tips over the edge and falls to the ground far below.

Even with adrenaline-increased speed, the creature is faster than you. It nips at your hooves as you practically fly up the ladder. You burst out onto the main deck just as it lunges for you once more. You try to dodge again, but with how close the creature is, there’s no way that it can miss you.

Only, it does. 

Through some miracle, the hatchway is too small for the creature to fit through properly, and when it lunges, its shoulders become wedged in the frame. Instead of its teeth snapping down upon your leg, it bites down on empty air. That doesn’t mean you escape unscathed though, as the creature’s claws still manage to rake your side, leaving behind bloodied furrows in your flesh. The blow sends you staggering, and your hooves manage to get caught up in a mess of rope that has been left lying around. With a startled yelp, you tumble to the deck in a tangle of limbs and rope. Unable to stop yourself, you roll down the sloping deck and slam into the ship’s railing. The blow knocks the air from your lungs.

As you struggle for breath, you open your eyes, only find yourself dangling over the railing. Open air is before you, and the only thing standing between you and a fatal fall is the old wooden railing. From your vantage point you can see that the ship is half-resting on a large circular platform that is protruding over a cliff face. Even as you watch, the ship tilts back and forth, threatening to slip over the edge and down the cliffside.

As you stare out into space, eyes wide in terror, the creature begins struggle to get through the hatchway. It gnaws and claws at the wood, sending splinters flying through the air. The motion causes the ship to shudder, and to your growing horror, it begins to topple.

Heart thundering in your ears, you begin struggling madly to get free of the rope. The movement doesn’t help the situation, if anything it just causes the ship to tilt faster. The sound of wood crunch on stone can be heard, and you feel the ship start to fall out from beneath you. It’s passed the point of no return.

The ship is going down.

Your horn lights up and you rip the ropes off of you with your magic, regardless of the rope burns you sustain in the process. Scrambling to your hooves, you race up the sloping deck, fighting to find purchase as the deck tilts itself to an angle over sixty-five degrees. Your hooves slide on the wood, and you have to fight hard to make any headway. Your nostrils flare, steam issuing forth with each breath. 

The creature, still trapped within the hatchway, swipes at you as you dash past, but you duck, avoiding its claws. It gives a mighty lunge and, with a crack of wood, pulls itself free of the hatchway’s frame. Claws digging into the wood, it pursues you, even as the ship falls.

You reach the opposite railing just as the ship breaks free from the platform. Crying out, you leap onto the railing and, with one last final kick of your hind legs, launch yourself into the air just as the ship begins to freefall. You slam into the edge of the platform chest first, the blow winding you. You manage to hang on however, your back hooves scrambling at the smooth marble as you pull yourself up over the edge.

The creature is not so lucky. It tries to leap as well, but a hind leg gets caught in the railing. With a howl and a groan of wood, it and the ship fall away into the darkness below. It’s a few seconds of silence before you hear the faint sound of smashing wood echoing up from the foot of the cliff.

 Sitting on the edge of the platform, you stare down into the gloom as you catch your breath. Night had fallen completely now, and you could no longer see the ground from your vantage point. It was just darkness—a never-ending abyss—far, far below. As you calm down from your near-death experience, your mind begins to wander. What the hay was that creature, and how did it get on the ship? Did it sneak on after the landing, or was it aboard the entire trip? 

You think about it for a few more seconds before shaking your head and pushing the thoughts aside. It doesn’t matter anymore. The creatures dead, and the ship is now a pile of scrap at the bottom of the cliff. And you are the sole survivor. Realistically, you have to assume that the creature killed all of the crew before you woke up, but a small part of you holds on to the hope that some of them managed to escape. Hopefully none were hiding on the ship, otherwise… well, that’s better left unsaid.

Closing your eyes, you sigh heavily before staggering to your hooves. A hiss escapes your lips as pain flashes up your side; the claw mark the creature gave your burning slightly as you move. Peering around at the wound, you wince upon seeing your blood-soaked side. The crimson liquid is soaked into your fur. It slides down your barrel to drip to the ground, staining the stone beneath you red. A tentative touch with your hoof causes another spike of pain from the raw flesh. Still, you have to examine it, so you push on through the pain.

After a moment of inspection, you breathe a sigh of relief. While on first glance it looks bad, the scratches are actually not that deep. Sure, it’s still oozing blood at a steady rate, but it wasn’t gushing forth. You have time to find something to stop the bleeding, as well as some aid.

Pulling your gaze from the room, you finally glance around at your surroundings. You are on a large platform that’s cut in the shape of a half-circle. In the center is a small platform which houses a stone statue of a large cloaked mare, hood pulled over her face and forelegs held to the heavens. Several trees grow from holes in the stone placed at regular intervals around the circumference of the platform. One tree is knocked over, the trunk smashed from where the ship had collided with it. A large wall runs along the far end, the top of which is lined with an iron fence. The wall is taller than you are, but you can still see the silhouette of buildings rising up behind it. A city rests behind the walls. Apparently you were able to make it to your destination before the ship crashed after all. 

Trying to ignore the throbbing pain in your side, you make your way across the platform to a large wrought iron gate built into the wall. It squeaks loudly as you push it open, but offers little resistance. 

As the gates swing open fulling, you step through and into the city proper.







—Central Canterlot—





Well, this is the stupidest thing you have ever seen.

Upon exiting the platform and into the city, you get your first look at where you’ve landed, and you’ve got to say, you don’t like what you see. The platform is on the outskirts of the town, and on the other side of the wall is a walkway that runs perpendicular to the platform, heading towards the city. It’s a small walkway, barely twenty feet across. A small iron fence runs about the opposite edge, and beyond that you see insanity.

Framed against the light of the rising moon, a mountain looms over the city. It casts a shadow upon the buildings below, its snow-covered peak seems to almost curving forward, over the buildings at some bizarre angle. That’s not the crazy part though. 

Oh no. The crazy part is the fact that the city is built onto a mountain side. And not like you’d usually think when somepony said that. The city isn’t built into the mountain; it’s hanging off the side of the mountain! 

As you stare at the disturbing sight before you, thousands of questions run through your mind. How was this city built? What’s keeping the city from falling? What support system could possibly hold an entire city in the air like this? Who in the name of existence designed this and thought it was good idea? All it would take is one poor soul not paying attention to where they were going and they could easily follow the path of the ship and fall to their death!

Insanity. You’ve only been in this city for a few minutes, and all you’ve experienced is insanity.

Shaking your head and trying to put the sinking feeling that the city was going to fall at any minute out of your mind, you head right along the walkway and towards the city.  Right, first things first: find somepony, find out where you are, and then get medical attention.

As you walk through the streets though, it looks like your plan isn’t going to happen. The streets, like the ship before them, are in a state of disarray. Vines of ivy cover the iron fences, many of which have missing segments. Abandoned carriages fill the main streets, their doors open and their luggage still upon the racks. Trunks, sacks, boxes, crates; all manner of baggage, is strewn about. Some are stacked together while others appear to have just been tossed about at random. Several have burst open, spilling their contents all across the cobblestone road. Shirts, dresses, makeup, hair supply, bits; all of it discarded like yesterday’s trash.

Street after street is like this, having the appearance that everypony just stopped what they were doing and left in a hurry. It couldn’t have been that long ago either, as many of the streetlamps are still lit, weak flames flickering within their frosted glass.

A feeling of foreboding settles upon you again as you make your way through the abandoned streets. The only sound that can be heard is the echoing clip-clop of your hooves on the cobblestone. Steam wafts up from sewer covers, matching your breath as you exhale; there’s an unnatural chill in the air tonight.

After a few minutes of walking, you come across the first signs of life. Rounding a corner, you find bright banners hanging from buildings and street lamps. Paper lanterns hang from strings, many of them burning as the small candles inside them consumes the paper. There are tables covered in food in small park just off of the main road. A party had been going on here not that long ago.

But if that is the case, where is everypony?

With a confused frown upon your face, you make your way towards a random building. Giving the door a firm knock, you wait for somepony to answer. After a minute with no response, you try the handle only to find that it is locked. The same is true for the next few doors you try. You peer into a window, but it’s too dark inside to make out anything but dark shapes.

Pulling away from the window, you huff softly before glancing around again. What the buck is going on? First the ship, now this place; did the world go mad when you were unconscious?

You move back into the street, only to pause when a noise reaches your ear. It’s faint, but due to the unnatural silence that hangs over this place, you can hear it quite clearly. It’s coming from down the street, and it takes you but a moment to realize what it is: it’s the sound of hoofsteps.

Ears perked, you canter down the street towards the source of the noise. Finally, some other ponies. Hopefully they’d be able to tell you what was going on. Maybe… maybe it’s the Guard. Yeah, that sounds about right. There was a party going on here in the evening, and the guard showed up to deal with the noise complaint. Everypony went home. That makes sense… right? Reaching the end of the street, you round the corner only to slow to a stop. 

Well, they aren’t guards, you can tell that much.

A group of a dozen or so ponies are making their way down the street towards you. Torches are held aloft in magic and mouth alike as the shuffle along, moving at a sluggish pace. Almost all of them are dressed in dark suit coats, the material ragged and torn. Loose bandages cover their legs and barrels, the white material stained brown from dragging in the dirt. 

As they draw nearer, you start to see that some of them are also armed with makeshift weapons: pitchforks, spears, knives, etc. Anything that could be slapped together in a standard home. You can also see that many of the weapons are covered in blood. This causes you to almost backpedal until you realize that they’re probably after that creature you encountered on the ship. Maybe it attacked during the party and they drove it off, but are now hunting it down? Well, that’s good then. You can tell them you already dealt with it and then hopefully one of them will be able to direct you to a hospital.

Approaching the group, you call out in greeting, only for it do die in your throat as one of the lead ponies glances up. It is then that you know for sure that something is truly wrong. The stallion’s eyes are cataractous, a thick milky-blue film covering the orbs. The area around the eyes are red and swollen, and his cheeks wet and matted. A quick glance shows the other ponies have similar symptoms.

Upon seeing you, the lead stallion lifts his pitchfork in the air before screaming out through yellowed teeth, “Beast! You foul beast! Plague-ridden rat!” As if waiting for a cue, the rest of the group begins shouting as well. “Cursed beast!” “You’re better off dead!” “Away! Away!” Still shouting, the ponies brandish their weapons before racing forward, coming right at you.

Nope, buck this shit. You’re out.

Turning, you race back down the road, passing the street you had originally come from. The mob is right on your heels, and while at first they had seemed slowly, they’re actually pretty fast when they want to be. That, combined with the pain in your side and your unfamiliarity with the layout of the city has them slowly gaining on you.

Dashing through the streets, you race past several wooden crucifixes that are aflame. There appears to be something tied to the wooden beams, although you can’t get a good look at it as you rush past. You don’t have time to look at anything really, as you are barely able to avoid stumbling over the many piles of debris that litter the streets.

Behind you, the shouting grows louder.

“You are not wanted here!”

"Burn! Burn!”

“This is all your fault!”

Skidding into an intersection, you glance around, desperate to find somewhere—anywhere—to hide. The mob is practically on top of you; you can almost feel their breath on your back. A glint of blue light down one of the streets catches your attention. A small lantern hanging from a crooked stick stands in the middle of the road. It’s small, the top of the stick barely coming up to your chest. For some unknown reason, you feel a powerful pull from the light and without even thinking about what you are doing, you make a beeline for the lantern.

As you near, a fine mist sudden springs up from the base of the lantern, and from the depths of the mist rise four of the small albino dragons from your fevered dream. The group around the lantern, staring up at it with claws clasped before them. You don’t have time think about what’s going on though, as a knife ricochets off the cobblestone inches from your hoof.

Without thinking—without really knowing what you’re doing or what to expect—you take a few last steps before diving head first towards the lantern. Sliding the remaining feet, you grab the base of the lantern with your hooves. An eerie warmth begins to flow through your body even as a shadow looms over you. Glancing up, you can only watch in horror as one of the ponies raises their pitchfork high above their head before bringing it thrusting down towards your face.

Turning your head, you close your eyes and wait for the inevitable.

It never came.

With a chime of a bell, you disappear in a burst of mist and light.







—Bearer’s Dream—





Silence.

That’s all you hear: silence. No screaming, no cursing, no pitchfork embedding itself into your brains. Just peace… and silence.

…

Something ain’t right here.

Tentatively, you crack open an eye and glance around. White flowers fill your vision, swaying peacefully in a gentle breeze. You are no longer lying on a rough cobblestone street, but instead there is an old dirt-and-stone path beneath you that has been worn down by age and traffic. The lantern is gone as well, along with the angry mob of ponies.

Dazed and confused, you slowly rise to your hooves. Somehow you are no longer in the city, but instead are in a small walled off garden. Short cobblestone walls run the length garden, the rocks overgrown with ivy. There are multiple tiers to the garden, seeing as small rocky outcrops juts into the air. Steps chiseled into the stone allow one to climb to a higher vantage point, the grassy top providing a comfortable place to sit. White lilies grow in small patches all over the place: in between rocks and crevices, along the side of the dirt pathway, against the cobblestone walls. Crooked trees also grow here and there, their branches covered with dying leaves. A thin mist covers the ground, wafting lazily along on the breeze.

The moon looms high overhead, the celestial body alarming big. It looks surreal being that close, so close in fact that the moonlight easily illuminates everything as though it was day.

In the center of the garden, covered by ivy and sitting at the top of a sloping hill, is a small brick building. Though it’s tiny in nature, its design is grand and complex. The windows are stained glass, the doors are thick mahogany wood, and statues jut out along the rooftop. The only word that could possible describe the little abode was ‘royal’. 

Glancing around the area again, you see that a set of stairs winds up the hill to the door of the building. With no other plan of action coming to mind, you take a deep breath before climbing the steps. The wound on your side aches with each step, but you push on.

About halfway up, you come across a small ledge created by a cobblestone wall. A lantern rests upon one of the stones, its soft yellow light illuminating the area. However, it is what’s beside the lantern that catches your attention.

A porcelain doll rests propped up against the cobblestone. Dressed in oldish style clothing, the doll is clearly modelled after a mare. The skin is painted a grayish blue, while the hair used for its mane and tail are very light azure. A horn sticks forth from its forehead, a black ribbon tied about the base. It stares unblinkingly at you with bright cyan eyes.

The sight of the doll causes you to pause, and you eye it curiously. The craftsmanship that went into its making is astounding; it looks almost like it’s alive! However a nagging in the back of your mind is telling you that there is something off about the doll. Not something bad, just… off.

Snorting softly, you shake your head before continuing up the steps.

The doors to the building are locked, much to your vexation. Lifting a hoof, you pound upon them and call out, but no response comes from within. You contemplate breaking a window and climbing in, but the lowest one is several meters above your head, so that plan is out. There could possibly be another entrance, but upon trying to walk around the building you find yourself blocked both ways: one the left by a good fifteen foot fall to the garden below, and one the right by a tall iron fence.

Your frustration growing, you head back down the stairs. Pausing by the doll, you grimace before—with reluctant hooves—removing the white sash from around its waist. It’s almost a sin to desecrate the thing, but your wound isn’t going to tend to itself. Painfully aware of the blood now staining the white material red, you wrap the sash around your barrel tightly, bandaging the claw mark.

For the next few minutes you explore the garden, trying to find a way out. There is a gate through which you could see another part of the garden, but not only is the gate locked, it appears to be a dead-end with only one way in and out of the circular clearing. There is a nice-looking tree with pink blossoms in that area, but you can’t get to it.

The longer you explore this place, the more confused you become. There’s no way out. A fence runs around the perimeter of the garden, yet there is no gate. A thick fog obscures everything on the other side of the fence, save for what looks like towering pillars of stone that are thrust high into the sky. 

Picking up a stone, you push it through the rails of the fence and let it drop. Instead of hear the sound of the rock landing on the ground, you are met with silence as the stone disappears into the mist. After nearly half a minute, you hear the faint clatter of it bouncing off something far below.

Where the buck are you? This is getting ridiculous; all the madness happening within the past hour or so—the strange creature, the deserted city, the angry mob—and now you’re stuck in a strange (albeit peaceful) garden that appears to be on top of a small plateau with no way down! You aren’t a damn pegasi; you can’t fly!

Is that where you are right now? Some weird form of a private pegasi garden in the clouds? A special place designed so that only they can get to it?

…

No, no. That can’t be it. It’s not made out of clouds.

Unable to find a way out of the garden, you instead return to the locked building all while grumbling and muttering darkly under your breath. Pulling yourself up on the ledge, you move to sit down beside the porcelain doll, only to pause when something catches your eye. There, clasped delicately in its forehooves, is a rolled-up scroll.

Cocking your head to the side, you light up your horn and carefully pull the scroll from the doll’s grasp. Why didn’t you notice this before? Quickly unrolling it, you glance at the contents only for your eyes to widen in shock.

It’s the contract you signed back on the ship.

All the information you filled out is still there, though the ink is a little smeared. Name, gender, age, mane colors, coat color, cutie mark; all the relevant information is still readable. Tucked within the scroll is a secondary piece of paper. On it, written in an elegant, looping hornwriting, was the message: “To escape from this dreadful dream, halt the source of the spreading scourge, lest the night carry on forever.”

You blink in surprise before reading the note again, trying to understand the words. Halt the source of the spreading scourge? What can it possibly mean by... that…?

The sound of shuffling feet causes you to glance up. 

One of those weird albino dragons shambles up to you, a weird item held in its claws. It looks like a large saw-like weapon with a long handle that runs perpendicular along the back. Serrated teeth, jagged and crude, line the far edge, while the opposite edge—blocked by the handle—is sharpened like the edge of a knife. The blade itself is made from dark metal and is partially wrapped with bandages.

The dragon stops in front of you before proffering up the weird blade. Taking it in your magic, you run your eyes over the weapon. Upon closer examination, you see a small switch located at the point where the blade and handle meet. Giving it a flick, you jump back as the blade suddenly swing about in an arc. It now juts forth from the handle like a sword.

You stare up at the weapon held aloft in your magic for a few seconds before your gaze slowly drifts back down to the strange note. 

Halt the source of the spreading scourge.

It’s all starting to make sense to you now. The creature, the state of the city, the condition of the ponies in the mob. The ponies within this land are being infected by some horrid plague and you were hired—via the contract—to eliminate the source of that infection. This is your job now; this is the price for curing your disease. If that is the case, then so be it. You will work off your debt, one infected at a time.

The only question is, how do you get out of this garden and back to the city?

As if hearing your unasked question, the dragon turns and shuffles over to a large, vine-covered bush located on the other side of the path. Reaching up, he grabs at the vines before pulling them down. As they fall away, a gravestone is revealed beneath the vegetation.

Curious, you jump down off the ledge and tentatively approach the headstone. It’s overly decorated like the building behind you on the hill, the ornate carvings almost breathtaking.  The main face of the headstone is worn and weathered, cracks running along the edges. It’s completely blank save for a small like of chiseled writing. Leaning down, you squint as you read what is written in the stone.





Central Canterlot





Canterlot, huh? Was that where you were before? The city on the mountain?

As you stare at the words, they slowly begin to glow softly. Mist begins to waft up from the base of the headstone, swirling about as it surrounds you. Compelled by some unknown force, you reach forward and place your hoof upon the glowing words.

In a swirl of mist and light, you are gone.










> Chapter 02: The Blood-Soaked Knight, Part 2
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

	In a swirl of mist, you reappear in the same street as before, standing beside the weird glowing lantern. Four of the small albino dragons appear as well, emerging from the ground at the base of the lantern’s stand. They gather around, claws clasped as they stare up at the glowing lamp with reverence.

You ignore them, instead casting a quick glance around as the strange mist slowly dispurses. There is no sign of the mob from before; they appear to have wandered off after your sudden disappearance. You briefly wonder why none of them were able to follow you to the weird garden, but you don’t linger on the question for long.

There’s work to be done.

Casting one last glance at the glowing lantern and the dragons, you step out of the lamp’s light. As you do so, the dragons sink back into the ground and disappear like smoke on the wind. With the Saw Blade held in your magic, you slowly make your way down the street, heading in the direction the angry mob had originally chased you from. You’re not sure if they returned to their previous route or not, but that would probably be the best place to start looking. 

Unlike last time, you are more cautious as you explore the deserted streets, sticking to the shadows as often as you can. Appropriating a few articles of clothing from the discarded trunks that are scattered about, you use the edge of the Saw Blade to cut them into long strips of cloth. You wrap these around your hooves in order to muffle your hoofsteps.

Turning a corner, you come across those burning crucifixes again. Without an angry mob chasing you down, you can actually stop and get a better look at them this time. Approaching the nearest one, you glance up, only for your eyes to go wide.

A mare hangs from the wood, her forelegs tied above her head. Wings are spread wide by her sides, the tips of them nailed to the crossbeam. However, instead of feathers, the wings are leathery and bat-like. The pony burns along with the crucifix, the flames slowly consuming her body.

A glance around at the other crucifixes reveals that they too have bat-like ponies hanging from them, stallions and mares alike. Some hang from their necks, others from their tails. There’s even a few foals present, much to your horror. All of them are burning, and now that you aren’t running for your life, you can smell the stench of burning flesh on the air.

Staring solemnly up at the pour souls, you shake your head. Why? Why were they treated like this? What possible reason can there be for these ponies to be killed in such a horrific manner? Did they have something to do with the plague, or were they simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. Either way, there’s nothing you can do for them now.

Muttering a quick prayer for them under your breath, you continue on your way.

You continue to traverse the streets for a while longer with little success. The city is bigger than you previously thought, and finding the mob again is proving difficult. Still, you press on, ears perked for any sound of movement. Every so often you catch a faint moaning on the wind, but you are unable to determine which direction it’s coming from.

After nearly an hour of walking, you see a light in the distance. Hope beings to well up inside you as you make your way towards it, only for it to be squashed when you see that you’ve simply gone around in a circle and are back at the lantern.

Grumbling to yourself, you pick a different street and head down it.

This one proves to be a little more fruitful than the first. Nearing the first intersection, you see that there’s a body lying on the curb. A closer inspection reveals that it’s a pegasus stallion with a butcher’s knife embedded in his head. Unlike the bat ponies, he has feathered wings, although many of the feathers appear to have fallen out at some point. His eyes are wide, and you can see that they are not milky like the ponies who attacked you. Did that mean that he wasn’t infected with the Scourge? Are there other ponies out there who might be able to help you?

Regardless, it doesn’t really matter at this point for this stallion. Crouching down, you gingerly close his eyes before, with a grimace, yanking the knife from his head. It comes free with a crunching noise that nearly makes you gag. You quickly toss the knife aside before standing up again.

It’s then that you notice the bloody hoofprints around the body, leading off down the street. It seems that this poor bastard is actually able to help you after all. Hefting your Saw Blade onto your shoulder, you silently follow the hoofprints.

This decision proves fruitful, as after only a few minutes of walking, the sound of multiple hoofsteps reaches your ears. Peering around the corner of a building, you smile to yourself as you catch sight of the mob from before. Their numbers have grown slightly, nearly two dozen ponies now shuffling down the street. Luckily they’re heading in the opposite direction, so they haven’t seen you yet.

Now… how to go about doing this?

Chewing on the inside of your cheek, you glance around the street. There isn’t any real cover that you can use save for several large trunks stacked on top of one another, and the mob stands between you and them. Other than that, the street’s quiet empty and they’ll surely see you before you can reach them. The last thing you want is to get in a fight with all of them at once.

Another glance around the street reveals something helping that catches your gaze. Eyeing the formation of the mob one last time, you turn around and backtrack down the previous street until you come to the entrance to an alleyway that ran parallel to the mob. You slip down it, being careful not to knock over any of the trash cans or barrels located within the alley. Hurrying along, you maneuver yourself about until you are ahead of the rabble. 

Peeking cautiously out from your hiding spot in the shadows, you watch the group of ponies draw near. Luckily, they’re staggered enough that you should be able to easily pick off one without alerting the entire group. Selecting one of the stragglers in the back, you keep an eye on him as you wait for your chance to strike.

The first few ponies pass without incident. You hold your breath though as one of them sudden stops right outside the alleyway you’re hiding in. He glances around, appearing to sniff the air, before, much to your relief, moving on.

Eyes still locked onto your target, you lift the Saw Blade a little higher in your magic and give it a few experimental swings. You allow the pony to take a few steps past your hiding spot before moving. Darting out of the shadows, you swing the blade towards the back of the pony’s neck while in the same motion flicking the switch on the handle. The blade flips out in a blur, embedding the saw teeth into the poor sod’s neck. He lets out a gurgling gasp, but before he can draw attention to himself and you, you yank him back into the shadows by his neck.

Giving the blade a sharp turn, you jerk it free from his flesh, allowing him to collapse. Blood splatters across the ground as he twitches and writhes. Bubbles gurgle up from his neck wound as he gasps for air. His milky eyes dart about frantically, and his face contorts into a snarl upon seeing you. There’s nothing much he can do though, and you watch as the light slowly fades from his eyes.

Your stomach twists into a knot, but you’re able to stop yourself from gagging. As unpleasant as this is, it must be done. Reaching down, you gently close his eyes and whisper a quick prayer before stepping over the lifeless body.

Moving to step out of the alley, you freeze when a low snarling noise reaches your ears. You barely have time to turn before a dog is suddenly on top of you. Jerking your head back, its teeth snap closed where your muzzle had been moments before. It slams into your chest, causing you to stagger backwards. 

As the dog lunges at you again, you attempt to bring the Saw Blade up, but as it is still extended, you are unable to quickly maneuver it about within the small space. You are forced to use the handle to knock the dog aside. With a yelp, it falls to its side. Moving quickly, you flick the switch again and collapse the blade. Before the dog has a chance to get to it’s feet again, you bring your weapon down upon his head. There’s a sickening crunch, and the dog falls limp.

Breathing heavily, you stare down at the carcass in shock. Where the hay had he come from?! You didn’t even hear it approach! If it hadn’t snarled, you would have been a dead pony. You take a few seconds to calm down before moving to retrieve your weapon. As you go to pull the blade free though, you notice that the dog’s eyes have the same milky property as the infected ponies’.

Does that mean that canines are susceptible to the plague as well?  Great… just great. If that’s the case, what other species can be infected? Griffons? Minotaurs? Hopefully there’s no dragons nearby, or else you’re really screwed.

Taking a deep breath, you push all thoughts of infected drakes from your mind. You drag the dog’s carcass over and place it down beside the dead pony’s. For all you know, they could be owner and pet. With that, you heft your weapon and step back out into the street.

There’s more work to be done.

With that, you begin to systematically take down the mob one pony at a time. Using the shadows and alleyways to your advantage, you slowly pick off the stragglers. Not all of them are as quick and clean as the first one either. Several of times you miss the neck or misjudge the strength you put behind the swing. During those occurrences you are forced to hold the struggling pony down until you manage to finish them off. By the time you got down to the last three or so ponies, you were covered in blood that was not entirely your own.

Pulling the Saw Blade out of its latest victim, you make to follow after the last of the mob, only to freeze as you hear somepony hiss out behind you, “Hey! Hey, you!” Whipping about, you raise the blade to attack, but nopony is standing there. Confused, and with your heart pounding in your chest, you glance around. You are positive you heard somepony speaking.

“Hey! I’m talking to you!” The voice calls out again, and now that you are paying closer attention, you can tell it belongs to a mare. Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention, and you turn your head. A curtain in a nearby window shifts again, and a single unclouded eye peers out from the darkness behind, glaring at you.

Upon noticing you gaze up her, the unseen mare speaks again. “Oh, you’re a guard, aren’t ya? ‘Bout time you showed up. Know of any safe places?”

You blink owlishly, a blank look on your face. First off, it’s clear that she’s not infected. Secondly, she thinks you’re a guard? Why would she think that? You most certainly are not a guard; you don’t even have armor on. You’re not even sure how to respond to that claim.

The mare seems to take your silence as refusal to help, for she clicks her tongue angrily. “Yeah, yeah. I should’ve known. Ya good-for-nothing… fat lot of good you gaurds do. I’ve heard, I have. Shutting up inside like this isn’t always enough. Though, if you guards got off your flanks, we wouldn’t be in this mess!”

“Don’t listen to her!” a second voice calls out from the other side of the street. Glancing over your shoulder, you see another pair of curtains being peeked through. A red lantern hangs above the door of the house, the soft light barely illuminating the siding in the gloom.

“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” the second voice—that of a youngish stallion—continues. “Y-you guards work hard, especially tonight of all nights. You must’ve had a fine time with it. Canterlot has… a special way of treating guards. I don’t think I could stand it if I wanted to. B-but I’m willing to help, if there’s anything that I can possible do!” His words trail off as he dissolves into a coughing fit. “Sorry—ack! S-sorry.”

Before he can recover, the mare is pounding against the glass of her window, causing you to turn around again.

“All this talk! Don’t ya have work to do?” she hisses. “This whole mess that Canterlot’s in, it's all your fault, you know? You fidgety guards! Our city’s ruined, tainted by their ilk!” Her gaze flicks to the dead infected pony lying at your feet before returning to you. “Well? Go on! Go slit some throats, get this mess done with.”

The corners of your mouth begin to pull back in a silent snarl. That’s what you’re trying to do, but it isn’t as easy as it looks! And with her distracting you, the remaining mob ponies have rounded the corner and are now lost to sight. If she took up any more of your time, you’ll have to hunt them down all over again.

The mare is oblivious to you now, muttering to herself words that you can not even hope to hear. Figuring the conversation is now over, you start to head off down the street again, but the stallion, having managed to ease his coughing fit, calls out to you, “W-wait!” Stopping with a huff, you turn around yet again and fix your gaze on his window. What else could he possibly want?

“You got separated from the others, correct?” he asks. You have no clue what he’s talking about. “Well, if it would help, I saw the Captain and his squad pass by earlier. I didn’t get a good look at them, but they appeared to be trying to restore order. T-they were headed in the direction of Canterlot Ward. If you hurry, you still might be able to catch up with them.”

Now that does interest you. From the sounds of it, the Guard is actually out and about trying to deal with the scourge as well. If you can meet up with them, that would make your job a lot easier. Now, you only need to know how to get to this ‘Canterlot Ward’.

Upon inquiring, the stallion says, “The Ward? It’s… it’s just a few blocks from here!” He falls silent, so you motion with a hoof for him to continue. “You just head down this street until you can’t go straight any more. T-take a right, head across the bridge and then up two flight of stairs. You should then pass by a cemetery. Keeping going straight, and you’ll hit the main gate of the Ward. However, if you want a s-shortcut, just cut through the cemetery and you’ll be in the Ward faster. That’s up to you though.”

Nodding your head in thanks, you turn and start off down the road at a brisk trot. The sooner you get to the Ward, the sooner you can help the Guards get this city back in order. As you leave though, the mare has some parting words that she shouts after you. “Go on, admit it! You think we’re all mad, don’t ya! Well, go and stuff it! You’ll be dead before the night is out, mark my words!”

You give your tail a flick, but other than that you don’t acknowledge her. Weapon held high, you make your way down the desolate streets of Canterlot, heading for the Ward.

Far above you, the moon continues to rise ever higher into the night sky.







—Central Canterlot—





It is fairly simple to follow the stallion’s directions. The road you are on ends abruptly and with only two directions to go—right or left—you head down the right street. You can see the bridge he mentioned in the distance, the large supports and archways decorated with pillars and statues. It spans across a large gap that runs throughout the city. It almost looks like it could be a river, except instead of water, empty air lies beneath it. If one were to fall off the bridge, it’d been quite a fall until they hit the ground.

You glance uneasy over the edge of the makeshift ravine, only to swallow thickly and inch towards the far side of the road. What is with this place and uncomfortable heights? Did adrenaline junkies live here? Seriously, the average citizen most likely walked past several near-death experiences on their way to work on a daily. 

This whole city was crazy!

Making your way towards the bridge, you notice that there are dozens of bodies strewn across the road, and it is easy to identify that they are infected ponies. You didn’t put these ones down though, and the dried blood indicates that they had been lying here for a while. Did the guards do this?

Along with the infected ponies, more of the burning crucifixes dot the sides of the road, each of them with a charred body strapped to them. Fortunately or not, you are no longer able to identify if the poor souls up there were mare or stallion, although it’s still too easy to identify which pony was an adult and which was a foal. Those are the worst; the little bodies twisted and blackened as the flames lick hungry at the burnt flesh. You issue a quick prayer for each one you pass, but unable to do anything else, you continue on your way.

The bridge is in the same state of distress as the rest of the city. The road is uneven and bumpy, many of the cobblestone blocks coming loose. Large carriage are scattered about, several of them on their sides. Dozens of books litter the ground, their pages ripped and waterlogged. A large chunk is missing out of the middle of the bridge, looking almost like a massive bite had been taken out of the structure. Still, it looks solid enough for you to cross, so, taking a deep breath, you do so.

Your hoofsteps, despite being muffled by the strips of cloth, still seem to echo as you traverse the bridge. About halfway across you encounter a makeshift barricade constructed out of a broken carriage and a plethora of sandbags. Bodies are grouped around the base of the barricade, and it isn’t until you draw nearer that you realize that some of them are wearing golden armor. 

It seems you are going in the right direction.

On the second half of the bridge, once you passed the barricade, the guard body count seems to rise staringly. Bodies in golden armor start to become more common than the civilians. To add to the uneasy feeling growing in your stomach, several of the guards’ bodies show signs of infection: milky pupils, red swelling around the eyes, and cracked lips.There aren’t many, but the fact that the Guard has been infected as well doesn’t sit well with you.

The rest of the journey across the bridge is—thankfully—uneventful. You pause briefly on the other side in order to get your bearings. Sure enough, a few meters down the street to your left you see a flight of stairs heading up to a higher tier of the city. That’s also the direction the bodies go in, so that’s where you’re headed.

The stairs lead you to a small plaza. On the left side there’s another flight of stairs that lead even higher, while on the right there’s a small fountain with a statue of a pony with both wings and a horn. A curious hybrid; you wonder what it’s called. Golden coins clutter the bottom of the fountain’s basin.

Eyeing the fountain for a few more seconds, you then turn and head up the second flight of stairs. At the top you come to another street running perpendicular to the stairs. On the other side is a large wrought-iron fence, the ornate gate to which is just across from you. Through the bars of the fence you can see a gathering of tombstones. 

You’ve reached the cemetery.

Peering down the road left and right, you frown when you see it disappear into the gloom. You are unsure of which direction to go in, as the stallion had told you to ‘keeping going straight’. There’s nothing to see but darkness in either direction, so you have no clue which way to go to get to the main gate of the Ward.

As you mull over your options, your gaze slowly drifts across the gate before you. A pair of iron pegasi rest at the top, facing each other. Their wings are thrust forward, the tips touching above the center of the gate. There is no visible lock nor chains holding the doors shut.

…

Well, the stallion did say that if you wanted a shortcut to just cut through the cemetery. 

Approaching the gate, you see that it’s actually opened a crack. You nose it open further before slipping inside.

The cemetery itself is built on a circular plot of land. Headstones are scattered here and there, no discernible order to their placement. Some stand alone while others are grouped together in conglomerations of six or more. Six trees are arranged in a circular pattern around the area, their branches bare save for a few dead leaves. A flight of stairs in the back leads up to a higher tier walkway, and you can see another gate located there. A large statue of a robed unicorn stands in the center of the cemetery, massive wings spread wide from it’s back. It’s reared up on its hind legs, a forehoof pointing forward in almost a damning gesture at whoever enters the gate. An ominous feeling fills the air.

You step further into the cemetary, your gaze drifting slowly around the area, only to freeze as you step in something wet. Glancing down, your face pales when you see that you’ve stepped in a huge pool of blood, the source of which is easily identified. Propped up against a nearby headstone, a lone guard lies. His eyes are wide in shock, and large gashes cover his body. A little further back, another body is located, this one of one of the townsponies. Then there’s another. And another. The more you look around, the more bodies you begin to see, both guard and civilian.

It’s like a massacre went down in here.

Heart pounding in your ear, you slowly begin to creep backwards towards the gate. Forget the shortcut; you’ll figure out the proper way on your own. You only manage to take a couple of steps though before a wet thumping sound reaches your ear. Movement out of the corner of your eye catches your attention and, glancing about, you see the source of the noise.

In the back corner of the cemetery, beside the stairs, a unicorn stallion stands. He is clad in blood-soaked purple armor, the metal chipped and cracked. His white fur is stained red, as is his two-tone blue mane and tail. From this distance, you can just barely make out his cutie mark: a blue shield with a pink six-pointed star in its center. A spear is held in his magic.

His back is to you, and as you watch, he thrusts the spear into an unmoving pony at his hooves. Blood flies from the body and splashes across the unicorn’s front, adding another layer to the already-ruined armor. The stallion repeats the actions a few more times, low grunts and growls escaping him with each methodical thrust.

After one particularly forceful thrust, he pauses, crouched over the body and breathing heavily. Slowly, he begins to straighten up. As he does so, he speaks. “Thestrals all over the town… You’ll be one of them sooner or later...” Letting out an animalistic snarl, he turns his head and glances in your direction.

It’s then that you can see his face.

Bandages cover his eyes, the white material stained red. Bloody streaks run down the stallion’s cheeks, matting his white fur. You're not sure how he can see, but he appears to be staring right at you. Opening his mouth, he exhaled loudly, his breath fogging up in the cool night air. 

That’s the only warning you get before everything goes south.

With a guttural scream, the unicorn leaps forward and thrust his spear towards your chest. The move is so unexpected that you barely manage to dodge in time, and the tip of the spear grazes your shoulder. You hiss in pain as blood begins to flow down your leg. Thankfully the unicorn’s momentum carries him too far, and he stumbles past you. You kick out with a hind leg, catching him in the side. A loud clank echoes around the cemetery as your hoof strikes the armor, and with a grunt, the unicorn topples over sideways. His spear clatters against the grounds as it falls from his grasp.

Buck this shit! 

Turning, you make to dash through the gate and out into the street, but find your way blocked by a fog-like wall of rosy magic. A quick glance shows that the gate to the Ward has the same barrier. The unicorn is staggering to his hooves, his horn glowing the same color as the barrier.

Looks like you’re trapped.

“Too proud to show your true face, eh?” he sneers. “Fine… but what a sporting hunt it is!”

The spear suddenly lifts into the air in a cloud of magic. It hovers there for but a second before rushing towards you at incredible speeds. Lighting up your own horn, you barely bring the Saw Blade up in time to deflect the incoming projectile. Before you can recover though, a burst of magic slams into your side, knocking the wind from your lungs. The unicorn is sudden in front of you and, rearing back, he proceeds to slam his head into you. Hard.

You let out a scream of pain as his horn sinks into your shoulder. A sharp tingling sensation runs through your body as he continues to channel magic even when inside you. Blood explodes forth, coating his head and neck crimson. He jerks his head—causing you to cry out again—before ripping his horn free.

Stumbling about on three legs, you stagger away from the unicorn as he levitates his spear up again. He thrusts it at you again, but you knock it aside with your blade. Before he can attempt that again, you flick the switch on the Saw Blade’s handle and unfurl the blade… right into his face.

The unicorn lets out a howl as you leave a large gash across his muzzle. He stumbles backward, raising a hoof to the torn flesh. You don’t let up though, and quickly slash at his neck and chest as well. The armor protects some of his body, but you still manage to draw blood.

With the unicorn temporarily stunned, you raise the Saw Blade to bring it down upon his head, but before you can land the finishing blow, his horn flashes and your are thrown backwards by a burst of magic.

As you struggle to get to your hooves, the unicorn pulls out a weird-looking device. It’s small, and looks almost like one of those paint gun thing the griffon’s invented some years back. However, instead of paint, it contains what appears to be a vial of blue glowing liquid.

Your eyes widen as you realize that it’s the same liquid that weird old stallion gave you on the airship.

Breathing heavily, the unicorn jams the needle of the device into his side and injects himself with the liquid. He lets out a hiss as his veins glow blue for a brief moment, but then, slowly, his wounds begin to heal.

Oh… oh buck no.

Rushing forward, you swing your blade about and knock the device out of his magic. It’s already too late though, as most of his wounds have stopped bleeding. You slash at his face again, fully intent on re-opening the gash, but he blocks the blow with the handle of his spear. In a blur, he whips the spear around, flashing the tip by your face. Pain flares in your cheek as the blade tears into your flesh, barely missing your eye by inches.

Not letting the pain distract you, you flick the switch on the Saw Blade again, causing it to collapse and trap the spear’s shaft between the back of the blade and the wooden handle. The unicorn tries to pull it free, but you just slam the edge of your blade into his armored chest once, twice, three times before, which a sharp jerking motion, snap the spear in half.

As the two halfs of the broken weapon clatter to the ground, you unfurl your blade again and slash at the stallion’s neck. The saw teeth dig into his flesh, ripping and tearing as you yank hard on the handle. With a sickening sound, the blade comes free, leaving behind a deep, gushing wound.

The stallion staggers back, his breath coming in short, sporadic gasps now. He makes to move towards the device with the glowing liquid again, but quickly dash forward and kick it away. It skitters away into the darkness, the faint blue glow the only indication of where it has gone.

Pausing, the unicorn stares after the device, his expression blank. The bandages around his face have shifted during the fight, revealing one of his eyes. It’s completely fogged over, the once blue eye now gray and lifeless.

Eye darting around its socket, the stallion lets out a choking laugh.

“W-what’s… what’s that smell?” he rasps. “The sweet blood. Oh, it sings to me.” Blood begins to dribble from his mouth. His lips pull back in a snarl, and you can see his teeth start to grow and sharpen into fangs. “It’s… it’s enough to make a pony sick…” With a shudder, his body begins to shift and warp. Muscles ripple beneath his fur as, with a crack, his armor splits in two in order to accommodate his growing form. Giving one last convulsion, the stallion let out a horrific, ear-splitting shriek before exploding in a shower of blood and magic.

Stumbling backwards at the force of the blast, you close your eyes to shield them from the sudden bright light. Before you can recover, something sharp catches you in the side and sends you flying into a headstone. The stone cracks as your body slams into it, and you crumple to the ground in a pile of rubble. With your head ringing and the world spinning, you glance up in time to see a giant paw come flying in and catch you upside the head. 

Into another headstone you go.

Yeah, that’s definitely a cracked rib.

Pulling yourself from the debris again, you can already feel the right side of your face beginning to swell. You glance up blearily, only for your heart to skip a beat as you see that the unicorn stallion has somehow transformed into a large, bipedal wolf-like creature. His white fur is now long and unkempt, the blood-soaked strands clumping together. The purple armor, split open and useless, dangles from about his shoulders and barrel.

Snarling, the stallion-turned-monster lunges for you again. You dive quickly to the side, ignoring the pain that flares up in your chest from the cracked rib. Rolling, you grab the Saw Blade in your magic before landing on your hooves. You hit the switch as you turn to face the stallion, unfurling the blood-covered blade.

The stallion—no, the beast howls before rushing towards you again. It slashes at you with it’s claws in a furious rage, and you barely manage to dodge beneath the swipes in time. Bringing your blade around, you attack the creature’s legs in a desperate attempt to slow it down. You blade manages to connect once before the creature suddenly leaps high into the air in a cloud of stone and dirt.

Lifting your head to see where it has gotten to. However, before you can locate it, it lands behind you and racks your back with its claws. You muscle through the pain and, gritting your teeth, throw your head back. The Saw Blade flashes through the air and embeds itself in the creature’s chest with a sickening crunch. Before you can pull it free though, the creature kicks you, sending you tumbling across the ground.

The blade still stuck in its chest, the creature follows after you. It claws at you, and you barely roll out of the way in time. Sparks fly into the air as it tears into the stones beneath you.Crawling on your belly, you scramble to get away, all while pitifully dodging the creature’s attacks. 

You actually manage to make it to an intact headstone before one of the creature’s swipes connects. Flipping in the air, you slam into the headstone back first. The creature lets out another howl before lunging at you, its maw gaping wide. Razor sharp teeth glint in the moonlight.

Reacting on purely instinct, your horn lights up and you grab the closest object in your magic. Without even looking to see what it was, you bring it between you and the beast, close your eyes, and pray.

There’s a sickening crunch followed immediately by a spray of blood… but you feel no pain.

Opening your eyes, you stare into the tooth-filled mouth that is wide open mere feet from your face. Embedded in the roof of said mouth is the upper half of the broken spear, the spearhead sticking out the back of the creature’s skull. The shaft still has your magic around it, though it fades as you stop channeling.

The creature wheezes, a confused look crossing its milky eyes. Blood flows from its mouth, dripping through its teeth and down its throat. The warm liquid drips down onto your stomach and thighs, but with how much blood is already there, it makes no difference. The beast lets out one last gurgling breath before its body goes limp and it collapses on top of you. Smoke begins to waft off the corpse, and within a few seconds the beast has turned back into a unicorn.

Silence once again fills the cemetery.

Pushing the body off of you, you opt to just lie there, breathing heavily. Bile slowly rises in your throat, but you manage to push it down. Your everything hurts… again. The doll’s white sash is now completely stained red with blood, the once majestic cloth ruined. Not that it is going to be doing much good here; there’s no way that it’ll be able to bandage all your new wounds. No, you need medical attention, and you need it now.

You peer up at the second story balcony and notice that the gate to the Ward is no longer blocked by the fog-like magic barrier. Well, thank the Goddess for that. Hopefully there are some uninfected—and alive—guards in the Ward who can lend a helping hoof. You just need to get to the Ward. Gritting your teeth, you push yourself up onto your hooves. The broken rib shifts about in your chest, forcing you to choke back a sob of pain. It hurt, but you aren’t coughing up blood… yet.

You glance around for your Saw Blade, and after a few seconds of searching you spy it lying beside the body of a guard. Picking it up with your magic, you collapse the blade before beginning to limp your way towards the stairs. The stab wound in your shoulder twinges with each step, blood oozing out of the hole caused by the unicorn’s horn.

As you stagger along, your eyes wander of the many bodies of guards and civilians alike. Now that you’re looking more closely, you notice that the guards are showing early signs of infection. Some had bandages over their faces, some had bloodshot eyes. There is even one whose teeth are far sharper than they should be. You also notice that many of the guards’ wounds were inflicted not by the townsponies, but by other guards. A guard with a spear in her chest, another with magical burns about his face. There’s even a pair of guards who have their teeth in each other's throats. What in the name of existence…

If these guards are this infected, who’s to say that the guards that may be in the Ward aren’t as bad off, or even worse? What’s to stop you from coming face to face with an entire infected guard company? There’s no way you’d survive that without some serious help, and from what you’ve seen, that’s not likely to happen.

Lost in thought, you aren’t paying attention to your hooves, and as such, end up kicking something. Glancing down, you see that it’s the strange device the unicorn used earlier. It lies there and glows softly, the glass vial on the back full of luminescent blue liquid. You stare at it dumbly for a few seconds before picking it up gingerly with your magic. Raising it to your eyes, you study it curiously, your mind racing.

The stallion had used it earlier to heal his wounds. The same should work for you, right? Although, you’ve already been injected with the substance once tonight. There isn’t some negative effect from overdosing, is there? The last thing you need is to get horrible sick while in the middle of this horror-filled city. You debate silently with yourself for a moment before a sudden flare of pain lances up your side.

Screw it. You just finished saying that you need all the help you can get.

Turning the device in your magic, you take a second to steel yourself before sticking the needle into your barrel and pulling the trigger. Immediately a cold sensation spreads throughout your body from where you injected yourself. You can’t help but shiver as you feel your body begin to heal; your flesh mending itself and your rib shifting back into place. Even the swelling in your face goes down. 

Within a few seconds your injuries, while not completely healed, are nothing more than minor scrapes and scratches. You put weight on your leg and only a dull pain comes from your shoulder; the stab wound nothing more than a bruise now.

By the Maker, this stuff is amazing!

Pulling the needle free, you watch in wonder as the empty vial is suddenly ejected from the device. A faint whirring noise can be heard and a full vial suddenly replaces the first.

Wat?

You study the device again and this time see a small latch on the side of it. Flipping it open, you discover a small storage space that looks like it could hold five of the vials. There’s another one on the other side, indicating that the device can hold up to ten vials at a time. However, there are only two present at the moment. Better save them as a last resort. Closing up the device again, you slip it in between the sash and your barrel. 

With that, you continue up the stairs.

At the top, you glance down into the cemetery as you walk along the walkway to the gate. You look at all the bodies down below, all the death and blood. This is supposed to be a place of mourning and remembrance, and instead it has become a battlefield of bloodshed. How many more, you wonder. How many more lives have been lost within this city? How many have died this night already?

And how many more must die?

As you reach the gate, a splash of color catches your eye. There, in front of the gate and lying in a pool of blood, is the body of a pegasus mare. You have to tell her gender by the shape of her body, as her head is currently missing. Her coat is an almost obnoxiously pink color, though the tips of her feathers are tinted purple. You can’t see her cutie mark, as it is hidden beneath a layer of blood.

You give the body only a passing glance before stepping over it and through the gate. There’s an alleyway on the other side which only leads to a small building. Coffins line the walls of the alley, some of the broken open while others are chained shut. You walk past all of them before entering the building. 

The cloth around your hooves instantly get soaked as you find yourself standing in a few inches of water. The building—which appears to be storage for the cemetery caretakers, is filled with sacks and barrels. The entire one-roomed structure is flooded, although you can not tell where the water’s coming from. A ladder at the far end of the room leads up to a hole in the roof, and you make your ways towards it.

The ladder leads up to the second floor of the structure, which turns out to be a smallish office-like room. Bookshelves line the walls, and two rectangular tables take up most of the room. Books, papers, and scrolls litter the floors and tables. There’s an archway at the far end of the room with a spiral staircase beyond leading further upward, so that’s where you head.







—Canterlot Ward—





At the top of the stairs is a pair of ornate double doors. There appears to be no locking mechanism, so you put your shoulder against them and push. Slowly, with a groan, they swing open revealing a large room on the other side. The ceiling stretches high above, nearly five stories high. Torn banners and trappings hang from the wooden lofts. Massive windows line the opposite wall, many of them stained glass. An ornate chandelier hangs from the ceiling. It swings ominously despite the fact there is no wind. Gargoyles line middle of the walls, with statues present further, hidden within small alcoves that run around the perimeter of the room. Dozens of lit pots of incense are scattered around the floor.

And there, in the center of the room where it had no earthly business being, is another small lamppost.

You stare at it for a few seconds before walking forward. As you draw near, four small albino dragons emerge from the mist around the base of the post. One lights the lantern, casting a soft blue light around the surrounding area. With that, they clasp their claws and gaze up at the lantern.

Stopping in front of the lamp, you eyeing it blankly. Will this one take you back to that weird garden as well? Actually, that might not be a bad idea. You might be able to find some more supplies there that can help you.

The dragons seem to get more excited as you kneel down beside them. Ignoring them, you reach out and touch the glass of the lantern. As you do so, the mist around the lamp flares up, and in a burst of light, you’re gone.







—Bearer’s Dream—





As the mist clears, you find yourself standing in the garden again. You’re on the dirt-and-stone path that leads up to the building on the hill. A gentle breeze still blows through the flowers, causing them to sway back and forth. The abnormally large moon still looms low in the sky.

Nopony appears to have shown up in your absence, so you guess you’re still on your own. Maybe you’ll try the building again; see if you can’t get the door open. There’s probably something inside that you can use. Deciding that you like that course of action, you start towards the foot of the steps, only to pause. 

The doll is no longer present. 

The ledge on which it had originally rested is now empty save for the lantern, which is still glowing a soft yellow. The doll, along with your contract and the note, are gone though. Did somepony come along and move them? Are they still here? Why would…?

You freeze, your body stiffening as the sound of hoofsteps suddenly comes from behind you. Before you have a chance to turn around, a soft voice speaks up.

“Hello, good Bearer…”










> Chapter 03: Seeker of the Scourge, Part 1
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

You stare at the doll.

The doll stares back.

You blink.

The doll blinks.

You are unsure of what you are seeing. It seems almost impossible to believe what your eyes are telling your brain at the moment. The doll is up and moving around. It’s alive. It’s moving and talking… a-and living. It… she… it—whatever! She is standing in front of you, wearing a look of curiosity as she watches you silently have a mental breakdown. Her head tilts to the side, her cyan eyes sparkling with innocence as strands of her light blue mane fall in front of them.

This isn’t… this can’t be happening. The doll has somehow come to life. How’s that even… why is she...? Is it some form of golem spell? No, golems don’t usually have the level of emotion the doll is exhibiting; they’re mostly lifeless husks. Could it be… maybe it’s… ugh!

You stand there, covered in blood—most of which is not your own—trying desperately to wrap your mind around what is standing before you. It doesn’t make sense! Even though the doll is moving about like a real pony, you can still tell that she’s a doll: her body is still porcelain; her eyes still made of glass. She still has on the oldish clothing from before, although a pair of wings now extend from two slits in the back of the dress. 

Not blinking, you lift a hoof and—after making sure that it is mostly clean of blood—nudge the doll. She sways, her wings flaring slightly to help her keep her balance, before glancing down at the place you touched. Lifting her own hoof, she gently touches the spot before glancing back up at you. As she does so, she tilts her head in the other direction, her curious expression unchanged.

Slowly, a small smile touches her muzzle.

“Hello, good Bearer,” she says, her voice soft and musical. “We are a doll.” Closing her eyes, she inclines her head in a small bow.

Your face scrunches up at her words. Yeah, no shit Sherclop; you already knew that. What you want to know is why she’s apparently alive and walking around. Especially seeing as the first time you were here she was lifeless.

The doll straightens up, her eyes opening again.

“We are here for thee,” she replies. “We are a doll, here in this dream to look after thee. That is our duty, as it has always been since this dream was created. Thou shall hunt beasts and we shall be here for thee, to embolden thy sickly spirit.”

You stare at the talking doll, your eyes wide. A dream? That’s what this place was: a dream? But if that was the case, why did the lamps teleport you here? Were… did they just put you to sleep? Is that it? Were you know lying in the middle of the chapel, fast asleep and dreaming? Could there be infected ponies creeping up on you right now, ready to finish you off?

…

No, no... that wasn’t right. This place couldn’t be a dream. You got the Saw Blade from this place, and it was with you in the city. It was real enough, as you were able to cut down a dozen or so infected ponies with it. That was no figment of a dream. But… what…?

Groaning, you lift a bloodied hoof and massage your temple. You can feel a migraine slowly coming on, the pain having started when you first entered that bloody graveyard. It had only gotten worse when the stallion had transformed into that horrid beast. This whole night has been one big mindfuck already; surely it can’t get any worse.

The doll, oblivious to your discomfort, takes a step forward. “Good, Bearer. We know that thou must be busy with thine hunt, but, should thee have a moment, we would recommend thou visit Celestia. She too was Bearer long, long ago. But now serves only to advise them. She might have some words of wisdom thou might find useful.”

Your ears perk. Somepony who might be able to help you? That… that would be wonderful. You are unsure of what a ‘Bearer’ is or why the doll keeps calling you one, but you have more pressing matters to worry about at the moment. The only question now is who’s Celestia… and where can you find her?

“She is obscure,” the doll says, “unseen in the dreaming world. Still, she stays here, in this dream. Such is her purpose, as is ours.” Turning her head slowly, the doll motions up towards the building with a hoof.

You look up as well, only to blink upon seeing that the doors to the building are open wide and a soft light shines from the windows. It appears that the owner—this Celestia—is home. If that’s the case, then she should be able to shine light on not only what this place is, but maybe even what’s going on in Canterlot. And if she can’t…

Well, at this point any help is good help.

You move to head up the stairs, but are stopped when the doll gently grabs a hold of your foreleg.

“One moment, dear Bearer,” she breaths, and her wings flutter by her sides. “Thou shouldn’t go before Celestia covered in the filth of the hunt. Please, allow us to clean thee up first.” Before you can protest, the doll takes you hoof in her own, closes her eyes, and bows her head. Her horn begins to glow softly, a white light emanating from the tip. Your hoof begins to glow as well, and you can feel a gentle warmth start to wash over your leg. It’s actually quiet pleasant.

The doll works silent for a few moments before beginning to hum. The noise is soothing, and combined with the sensation washing over your hoof, you feel your muscles begin to relax. Then, it begins to happen. Much to your amazement, the blood that coats your body starts to shimmer and ripple. As if drawn away by an invisible sponge, the crimson liquid begins to flow along your body towards the hoof the doll is holding. Within seconds you are clean again, your coat unmarred by blood or gore.

The light around the doll’s horn fades, and she releases her hold on your hoof. Opening her eyes, she gives you almost a dazed look. A small shake of her head, and her eyes focuses again. She smiles softly up at you. “Honorable Bearer… pursue the echoes and we will channel them into thy strength.”

You are unsure of what she’s talking about, but now that she mentions it, you do feel a lot better. Your body doesn’t ache as much as it did before, and your limbs no longer feel as heavy. The pressure in the back of your head also seems to have lessened somewhat, you’re growing headache fading away. 

As the doll stands again, you glance down at your now-clean form, only to frown upon catching sight of the sash about your barrel. The white cloth, while cleaner than before, still has red splotches staining the silken material. Pity, it had been a nice piece of clothing.

Reaching up, you remove the sash and hold it up in front of you. The doll glances at it as well before looking down at the waist of her outfit. You blink, a faint blush touching your cheeks as you remember where it is you got the sash in the first place. Sheepishly, you give the doll an apologetic smile when she glances up at you again.

She returns the smile with a slight shake of her head. “Worry not, dear Bearer. Tis but a piece of fabric. Nothing more. It has served thee well, and that is all that matters. Though, we will take it from thee if thou are done with it.” With that, she holds out her hoof.

You give the sash one last glance before handing it over to her.

“Now, go on, dear Bearer,” she says as she holds the cloth against her chest, uncaring of the blood-stained material. “Celestia is waiting.”

Nodding your head, you turn and head up the steps to the building.

At the top of the stairs, the ornate double doors are wide open, almost like they are welcoming you inside. You oblige them, and without hesitation, step over the threshold and into the building.

...by the Maker.

The interior of the building is composed of a single room, yet it is filled to bursting. Nearly half a dozen bookshelves are lined up against the walls, their shelves cram-packed with books, tomes, scrolls, maps, and many other forms of written work. Dozens upon dozens of excess books are stacked on top of one another on the floor, creating miniature pillars of literature. Cobwebs are in abundance in the dark corners of the room.

In the gaps between the massive bookshelves other pieces of furniture rest. Crooked cabinets and shelves are packed with glass bottles and jars of different colored liquids. A large trunk rests against the right-hand wall, as does a small workshop desk that’s covered in various tools and vials. Weapon parts dangle from the ceiling above the workspace, their blades glinting in the light of the lanterns that dot the furniture. Multiple dirty green rugs cover the wooden floor. 

At the far end of the room is a small platform on which a makeshift shrine has been set up. A hooded statue of a pony rests behind the altar, it’s head lowered and hidden behind the cowl. Dozens of lit candles rest upon the altar table, along with a discard golden tiara.

Everything within the place is covered by a thin layer of dust, but at the same time, the room gives off a warm, inviting feeling. It almost feels like home, and even looks like quite a few ponies have called it as such.

And there, in the center of the room, seated in a wheelchair in front of a small fireplace, is a mare.

She’s hunched over in the wheelchair, her head bowed and her eyes closed, apparently asleep. Most of her body is hidden by a brown, worn-out blanket, and there’s a crimson scarf around her neck. Even obscured by the blanket though, you can still easily tell that she is bigger than the average mare. Her coat is a pristine white, and her pink mane cascades about her neck and shoulders. A long, fluted horn juts from her forehead.

You pause upon seeing her, nervousness beginning to well up in your chest. The doll said that this mare would be able to help, but you aren’t too sure about trusting somepony in a wheelchair; the last one you encountered jabbed a needle in your leg, pumped you full of some kind of hallucinogen, and then left you for dead. Still, there’s something about the peaceful look on her face that calms you, and you step forward.

At the sound of your approach she opens her eyes, reveal orbs of deep magenta. She lifts her head, taking in her surroundings with a lidded gaze. Upon seeing you, she pauses, her mouth forming a small ‘o’, before a warm smile touches her lips.

“Ah-hah,” she breaths before wheeling her chair around to face you. Her voice is soft and melodic, although there’s a weary undertone to it. “You must be the new Bearer,” she continues. “I was wondering when you’d arrive here. Welcome to the Bearer’s Dream. I know it’s not much to look at, but this will be your home…. er, for the time being of course. I am… I’m… ugh…” She trails off with a groan and a grimace. Closing her eyes, she scrunches up her face in concentration. She remains that way for a few long seconds before she suddenly gasps and her eyes snap open again. The smile reappears. “I am Celestia, friend to your Bearers.”

There’s that title again: Bearer. First the doll, now this mare… why are they calling you a Bearer? A Bearer of what?

Celestia chuckles softly at your confusion and growing frustration.

“A Bearer of hope,” she says. “Bearers are individuals that have come to Equestria’s aid in its time of need. Ponies that have helped to uphold the tenet on which the nation was originally founded. However, not just anypony can lay claim to the title. It takes a pony of exceptional skill or resilience to truly take up the mantle of Bearer.”

You scoff at her words and shake your head. Surely there’s been some mix up. You’re not even an Equestrian citizen; you arrived in this land barely a few hours ago. She’s got the wrong pony.

Celestia just continues to smile.

“Bearers arise in times of great crisis,” she says. “And as the scourge claims the land, here you are. You might not be a fully-fledged Bearer yet, but you are definitely on your way to becoming one. You wield a Bearer’s Saw Cleaver and stand here in the Bearer’s Dream. Just because you’re not originally of Equestrian blood does not mean that you cannot be a Bearer.” 

You open your mouth to protest, but her horn lights up with golden light and from within her blanket she pulls out a familiar rolled-up scroll.

“You did sign the contract,” she says, her smile turning into a smirk.

You stare at her for a few seconds before tsking softly and glancing away.

“You’re sure to be in a fine haze about now and I’m sure your questions are endless,” Celestia says as she returns your contract to the fold of her blanket, “but don’t think too hard about all of this. Just go out a kill a few infected; put them out of their horrid misery. It’s for your own good. You know, it’s just what Bearers do. You’ll get used to it…”

That’s it…? That’s all she wants you to do? Go out and kill more of infected ponies? Be a glorified killer? That can’t be right; you thought for sure there’d be more to it than that. After how much weird shit you had to put up with already tonight, there damn well better be more to it than that. What about the strange note you found with your contract? Didn’t it say to ‘seek the source of the scourge’? Isn’t that what you had been hired to do?

“The source of the scourge?” Celestia asks, her eyes widening. “My, you are an ambitious one. Most Bearers wouldn’t even dare to consider such a path. They just kill their share of the beasts then retire from this dream. To actively seek the source of the scourge… only one has attempted to do that before and she… well…” She trails off, a flash of sadness crossing her face before quickly being replaced by a cold, calculating look as she eyes you up and down.

Slowly, the smirk returns.

“Very well,” she breaths. “Seek the source of this scourge if that is your wish, Bearer. Go with my blessing. It is sure to be a long and dangerous road, but far be it from me to deny you such. However… if I may make a suggestion?” She gives you a look, to which you nod your head. “You might want to consider starting your search at the School for Gifted Unicorns. There may be something there that can point to where the scourge originated from.”

The School for Gifted Unicorns, huh? That sounds promising enough, but where in the name of existence is the school located?

“The school is at the far end of Canterlot Ward,” Celestia answers when you ask. Her horn glows and suddenly a small object is lifted off a nearby desk and tossed your way. 

You catch it deftly in your own magic before closely examining the item. It’s a small cloth emblem that looks like it had originally belonged to a guard a long time ago. It is white with golden designs and trim. A stylized picture of the sun embroiders one side.

“That should make your life easier,” she says, nodding at the emblem. “There’s magic in there that you might find useful.”

You weigh the emblem for a moment before tucking it away. You’d figure out what to do with it later. For now, it was time to return to your search. As you turn to leave, Celestia calls after you.

“This was once a safe haven for Bearers,” she says, motioning around at the room. “A workshop where they used magic to enhance their weapons and flesh. Unfortunately, there aren’t as many tools as there once were, but… you’re welcome to use whatever you might find within these walls. Even… even the doll, should it please you.” A somber look crosses her face, and she sighs under her breath. “That’s why I crafted it a long, long time ago…”

You give her an uncertain look before nodding your head. With a word of thanks, you turn and exit the building.

The doll is waiting for you at the base of the stairs. Around her hooves several of the albino dragons gather, only they now are adorn in new attire: the bloodied sash the doll took from you. Having torn it into strips, the dragons have the strips wrapped about their heads and faces. They prance around the doll’s hooves, clearly pleased.

The doll puts a hoof to her lips, giggling softly. Upon seeing you, her smile grows. “Good Bearer, didst thou speak with Celestia?”

You nod, but keep your eyes on the dragons, a bemused look on your face.

The doll follows your gaze.

“Ah, the little ones,” she says. “Inhabitants of the dream, they find Bearers such as yourself, worship and serve them. Speak words, these ones do not, but still, aren’t they sweet?”

Sweet isn’t the word you’d used for the scarred little guys, but you will admit that they have a sort of charm about them. And they did help you out by giving you the Saw Blade… or as Celestia had called it, the Saw Cleaver.

Having finished with their dance, the dragons begin to disperse. Several fade back into the ground (although you have no clue how they do that) while others wander off into the gardens. Three however, shuffle over to the headstone you used to teleport last time. 

Well, if it worked before, it should work again, right?

You start to head towards the headstone, but are stopped by the doll. “One moment, dear Bearer.” From… somewhere she pulls out a pile of neatly folded clothing.

“Here,” she says, presenting them to you. “These are for thee. May they offer what little protection they can, so that thou may return safely to us once more.” 

Lifting the clothing in your magic, you unfold them to get a better look. The first article is a plain white undershirt, made from a soft material. A brown waistcoat-like vest is next. It’s made of a tough faux leather, and completely covered in pockets and buckles. And finally, a long black overcoat finishes the ensemble. It has a high collar, as well as an additional short cape that looked like it was to be worn around the shoulders.

You study the clothing for a few more seconds before putting them on. Surprisingly, they fit almost perfectly, almost like they had been tailored specifically for you. The collar of the overcoat goes up around your neck, almost reaching your muzzle. With it up, it hides most of your face from view.

As you finish tightening the last of the buckles, the doll pulls out one last thing: a black tricorne hat with silver trimming. There’s a hole in the front for your horn, and you bow your head, allowing the doll to place it upon your brow.

“There,” she says, taking a step back. “A true Bearer, now. May thy clothes bless thee with a safe return.”

You thank her even as you shift about, getting used to the clothing. Despite they are light, yet seem to be very durable. They should be able to protect you against most things you might encounter out there tonight, such as infected dogs, knives, and other such simple things. Though, you hope that you will not have to test out how durable it actually is.

Tucking the healing device you got from the stallion in the cemetery into one of the pockets on the vest, you then heft your Saw Cleaver onto your shoulder and approach the headstone. New words are upon the stone’s face, right below the first text.





Canterlot Ward





You reach out and touch the words, and they begin to glow. As the mist begins to waft up from the base of the headstone and obscures you from view, you hear the doll call out, “Farewell, good Bearer. May thou find thy worth in the waking world!”

With that, you’re gone in a flash of light.







—Canterlot Ward—





You reappear in the large cathedral. Moonlight is streaming in through the high windows, falling upon you as you stand there. Behind you, the dragons—now with their new bloodied headwear—group around the lantern. A thin layer of mist covers the ground. 

All it quiet.

Unlike last time, you don’t hesitate. You have your objective, and you have the general direction in which you must head: the School for Gifted Unicorns. Once you get there, you will scour every inch of it until you find the information you seek. Then, you’ll track down the source of this scourge and end this horrible outbreak. You might be happy about being in this situation, but you’ve already started on this journey. You always finish what you start, no matter what.

Stepping forward, you head towards the door at the far end of the cathedral building. You don’t even try the doors located on your left and right, as thick, heavy chains adorn them; there’s no way you’re getting those open.

You step outside and are immediately greeted by the cool night air. You are in a courtyard, tall buildings towering high above you. Twisted and warped statues line the edges of the courtyard, most of them depicting cloaked ponies hunched in fear and pain. Why the architects thought that would be a good decoration idea, you have no clue, but that’s not for you to decide. This whole city seems like an architectural designer’s nightmare.

A bell tolls faintly in the distance as you step further into the courtyard. A large wooden wagon rests off to the side, full to breaking with coffins and caskets. All of them are chained shut, although some of them appear to be shifting and shaking slightly. Muffled groans and snarls come from within.

You half contemplate opening the coffins to end the miserable wretches inside, but it’s clear that somepony went to great lengths to chain the caskets, so you leave them be. Besides, it’s not like the things inside would be going anywhere; you can always come back and deal with them later.

Stepping around the rocking wagon, you note a large flight of stairs off to the side. The steps are lined more statues, some of which are holding lit candles in their outstretched hooves. Candles also dot the stairs, their flames flickering weakly in the gloomy mist. The stairs are long, and lead upwards quite a way until they reach a massive building. However, due to the fog, you can’t tell what the building is exactly. Still, it looks promising, so that’s the direction you head in.

Your hooves click against the stone as you climb the stairs. As you pass by the statues, you can’t help the uneasy feeling that slowly grows in your stomach. Each one seems more detailed than the last, their looks of fear and agony terrifyingly realistic as they stare up at the large building above. You also dimly note that the statues are all mainly unicorns, with only a few pegasi and earth ponies sprinkled in here and there. 

There’s a few small ones as well that resemble foals, the stone effigies huddled together behind one of a mare. A few steps up are more, these ones clinging to the legs and barrel of a stallion. If the designers were going for creepy, they got it perfectly.

The hairs begin to stand up on the back of your neck, but still you press on.

You’re about halfway up the stairs when the building slowly comes into view. It’s indeed massive, but that’s too be expected seeing as it appears to be a palace. Gold and violet trim decorate the white structures and towers. The massive spires on the rooftops are adorned in statues and figurines. Large windows dot the wall of the buildings, and though most of them are dark, a few have flickering lights on within them. Backdropped by a waterfall cascading down the mountain beside it, the palace can easily be considered a thing of beauty and wealth.

However, the beauty of it is lost on you when you see that the majority of the palace sticks out over the edge of a cliff, hanging in open space with no clear sign of support beneath it.

Your eye twitches and you can feel your headache creeping back. Closing your eyes, you take a deep breath, shake your head, and then continue up the stairs. It’s not your problem, it’s not your problem, it is not your problem.

...so why does it feel like it’s going to be your problem soon?

White outer walls tower above you as you reach the top of the stairs. Inlaid with the marble is a gate of golden iron. Motifs of the sun and stars are carved above the gilded doors, as are a pair of pegasi-like gargoyles. Through the golden bars you can make out a large courtyard on the other side.

However, you can’t get to the courtyard at the moment. The gates are shut tight, and have some weird locking system wrapped around them. Large chains bind the bars, and you can feel the thrum of magic coming off of them in waves. They run through a large padlock, but there is no visible keyhole. Instead, a stylized ruin of the sun glows on the front of it.

It matches the symbol on the emblem Celestia gave you.

You wonder…

Fishing the cloth emblem out of one of your pockets, you glance at it only to find it glowing softly. It’s warm in your hoof, and the light it provides is somewhat soothing. You stare at it for a few seconds before lifting it into the air and presenting it to the lock. The thrum of magic increases to a near deafening hum before, with an echoing click, the lock opens and the chains fall off. Silence fills the air for a brief second before, with a deep groan, the gates begin to open.

Slipping the emblem back into a pocket, you give silent thanks to Celestia; it probably would have taken you hours to find a way over the wall otherwise.

When the gate is fully open, you slip through into the courtyard. It’s circular with dead cherry trees around the perimeter. A small fountain rests in the center of the area, an effigy of the sun resting on top of it. The golden metal glints in the moonlight. A cobblestone sidewalk circumferences the fountain before breaking off into multiple paths that lead to different buildings of the castle.

Now, which one leads to the School for Gifted Unicorns?

Moving further into the courtyard, you glance around at the different structures, trying to ascertain your next move. The one on the far left you immediately write off, as it’s clearly marked as the Treasury and is isolated from the rest of the buildings by a large, null-iron fence the wraps around the entire structure. You can almost feel your magic dying just by looking at that accursed metal, and you make sure to steer well clear of it.

The second building right next to the first… well, you aren’t too sure, but it looks like it might be a greenhouse or an indoor garden of some kind. Large green-tinted windows make up the roof, and through the darkened glass you can just barely make out the leaves of various plants. 

Welp, that certainly isn’t what you’re looking for.

Before you have a chance to observe the other buildings, a shout reaches your ear. Turning your head, you watch as the doors to the rightmost building fly open and a pony clad in dark lavender armor stumbles out. Even from this distance you can see that she’s one of the bat-type pegasi like you saw earlier. One of her wings is bent at a weird angle, and her right back leg appears to be useless, as she’s dragging it along.

She hurries towards the flight of stairs that leads from the building into the courtyard, only to trip and fall. As she scrambles to get to her hooves again, more guards appear at the door. These ones wear golden armor, and several of them carry spears in their magic. Bloodied bandages cover their muzzles and eyes and—by the Maker, they’re all infected!

With wordless shouts, they rush after the injured mare.

She squawks and practically throws herself down the stairs head first, crawling along in a desperate attempt to flee. One of the of the unicorns launches his spear at the mare, and it embeds itself in her flank with a sickening sound. She let out a blood-curdling scream before rolling down the last few stairs to collapse on the ground in a heap.

Alarmed, you start forward to help her, but the other guards get there first. You can only watch in horror as one brings her spear up and, with a cry, thrust it into the batpony’s head. “Death to the thestrals!” There’s a sickening crunch, and the batpony falls still, a dark pool of blood slowly forming around her limp form.

Damn...

You grimace at the noise, but don’t slow your pace. Even as the spear is pulled free from the fallen mare’s skull, you race towards the guards. Your horn lights up, and the Saw Cleaver is hefted into the air. The sound of your hooves against the cobblestone alerts the guards, but you are upon them before they can turn. Whipping the cleaver through the air, you flick the switch and unfurl it right into the spear-mare’s face.

Blood sprays through the air as you rip her muzzle in half. Not waiting to see if she’s down and out, you move on to the next guard. You might not have been able to save the batpony, but by existence, you can avenge her. Your blade flashes through the air, drawing more blood as you cleave through another infected guard. He falls, clutching as his gurgling neck-wound; a hoof to the head finishes him off. 

You turn, only to find the spear-mare lunging at you with her spear. Sidestepping, you give her a second gash across the face, followed quickly by one across her exposed flank. She falls to the ground with a shriek and her spear clattering away into the darkness. 

“The town’s done for,” she wheezes before you slam your cleaver into the back of her head. As you pull the saw free, a guard tackles you to the ground. Teeth gnashing together, he growls before shoving something in your face. 

Without waiting to see what it is, you roll quickly out of the way. A flash light blinds you at the same time an explosion of thunder assaults your ears. Bits of rock and earth bounce off your face, leaving behind small cuts. Ignoring the pain, you stagger to your hooves and get a good look at what the stallion has. Your eyes widen and your heart rate quickens upon seeing that he’s holding a thrice-damned griffonian blunderbuss in his magic.

He points the smoking barrel at you again, and you dive to the side just as another blast of thunder roars through the courtyard. You are forced to roll again as he fires a third shot. This one misses you, but strikes a guard instead, blowing half his face off. A fourth shot is fired and this time you are hit, the shot grazing your shoulder. Luckily, the coat the doll gave you seems to absorb most of the impact.

The stallion tries to fire a fifth shot, but the blunderbuss just clicks: he’s out of ammo. Reaching into his armor, the guard starts to reload the gun. He shoves one bullet in before cocking.

Nope!

Spinning about, you hurl your cleaver at his. The blade soars through the air and imbeds itself into the stallion’s leg. He cries out and his magic falters, causing the gun to fall to the ground. Before he can recover, you’re beside him. Grabbing the cleaver in your magic, you kick the stallion in the chest, sending him toppling backwards and ripping the blade free in a shower of blood.

The last guard charges you with a muffled shout, a battle axe clamped in his teeth. Unable to maneuver your blade around in time, you grab the blunderbuss with your magic. Whipping it up, you don’t even aim—you just point it in the stallion’s direction and pull the trigger. 

The shot tears through the stallion’s armor and into his chest. He dies instantly, his body collapsing to the ground and sliding the last meter or so to end up at your hooves.

And with that, silence falls over the courtyard again.

Slowly straightening up, you glance around at the carnage. Five guards lie dead about your hooves, their golden armor splattered with blood. Off to the side, the mare in the lavender armor lays in a crumpled heap. You give her a sorrowful look and offer a quick prayer for her soul. With that, you begin to scavenge the bodies for anything useful. 

It is a little tedious and stomach churning, seeing as everything is covered in blood. By the end of it though, you have acquired a couple more of those blue glowing vials for the health-gun-thingy, as well as nearly a dozen pieces of ammunition for the blunderbuss. The guards don’t have anything else really useful on them save for their armor—which you didn’t know the first thing about—and their personal trinkets—which you left alone.

You refuse to even consider desecrating the fallen batpony, out of both parts respect and guilt.

Placing the gathered resources into different pockets for later, you then inspect the blunderbuss. It’s in fairly good condition, just a few scratches and dings here and there. The handle is made out of dark wood, the color practically black in the gloom of the night. A strap of leather is connected to the base of the handle and the barrel, probably so that the griffon-user could throw it over their shoulder. Finding no real problem with the gun, you reload it before strapping it across your back. You give the Saw Cleaver a good shake in an attempt to clear off blood before placing it on your back as well. 

Finished with your scavenging, you take a deep breath and bow your head, offering a pray for the fallen. You then step over the corpses and make your way slowly towards the central building.

You have a school to find...

...and a scourge to end.