Hello. It's nice of you to stop by on this quiet night. I imagine you're here to hear my story.
Well, my name is Stygian, and I was there during the Great Calamity all those years ago.
But I wasn't always a bard and a musician, telling heroic tales and travelling all the time.
I wasn't always a pony. Let me take you back in time, back in time to a time a few hours before this all began, when my life still resembled something that could be categorised as normal.
Picture the scene. It's a cold, wet night in Nottingham city, and the bars and pubs throughout the city are packed with revellers and people wanting to secure some warmth and drink on a cold winter's night. Don't worry; where I was originally from, there was no such thing as Covid 19, so people could safely gather in a fashion that you can't. No hard feelings, but I somehow feel my dimension got things a little better than yours.
So, where was I? I was at the oldest establishment in the city, Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem. Small, charming place, cut into the side of a cliff face made of Nottingham chalk, which is naturally soft and perfect for carving rooms into. This pub had the caves built first, then a building put in front of the caves to act as an entrance. It gained its name from the fact that many pilgrims would rest there on their way to Jerusalem during the Middle Ages, usually to fortify their spirits before continuing their difficult journey to the Holy Land. In fact, Ye Olde Trip to Jerusalem is believed to be the oldest pub in England, although Ye Olde Fighting Cocks in St Albans also makes that claim. But I feel as though I am digressing somewhat.
Let us return to our scene. The pub is packed, as it usually is on a Friday night, full of revellers wanting to get away from life for a while. Most are having pints, and a select few chose to have a meal with it too (unlike your timeline, we weren't required to buy Scotch eggs to have a drink). All their eyes are turned upon the stage, and the previous musical act has just finished. Tonight is music night, where bands from across the county come to showcase their music and hopefully get a tip or two along the way.
This is where I enter. Plain, boring Tom Haddington. About as dull and featureless as they get. I'm a guitarist. Well, I was, at least, as playing the guitar with hooves is practically impossible, but that's not the point, my friend. Myself and two friends took the stage to perform what would be the last number of the night.
"The Parting Glass," I whispered to them, and they nodded accordingly. I adjusted the microphone, and spoke up. "Good evening, everybody. Seeing as this is the last performance of the night, I thought it fitting to round off with this old song from Scotland. 'The Parting Glass'."
I indicated to the others that I was ready.
"Of all the money that e'er I had;
I spent it in good company.
And all the harm I've ever done;
Alas it was to none but me.
And all I've done for want of wit
To mem'ry now I can't recall;
So fill to me the parting glass
Good night and joy be to you all!"
"So fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate’er befall,
And gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all!"
"Of all the comrades that e'er I had;
They're sorry for my going away!
And all the sweethearts that e'er I had;
They'd wish me one more day to stay!
But since it falls unto my lot,
That I should rise and you should not;
I gently rise and softly call-
Good night and joy be to you all!"
"So fill to me the parting glass
And drink a health whate’er befall,
And gently rise and softly call
Good night and joy be to you all!"
Safe to say, that brought the house down. The crowd clapped and cheered, and I would be lying if I said I didn't feel a glimmer of pride that moment. "Thank you," I said. "Well, that concludes Friday Night is Music Night, and I look forward to seeing you again tomorrow! Thank you, goodnight, and have a safe trip home!"
It was very dark when I finally got back home. The tram had been running late, and it was pretty busy, so it was standing room only on the way back to Gregory Street, where I lived. It was a good thing I had my ticket to easy hand, as the ticket inspector boarded to look at our tickets. There's a local saying that goes, 'the day you board without a ticket is the day the ticket inspector boards your coach'. In other words, never board without a ticket, as it'll cost you more than a lot of money.
At long last, the tram pulled to a stop at Gregory Street station, and I got off, guitar case slung over my back. I watched as the tram set off, speeding into the distance and rattling over a bridge. I stopped to see if the next tram going the other way was running through non stop, but luckily it stopped in the platform, allowing me an opportunity to cross. Trams have priority over pedestrians, after all.
I walked over to my door, the only door, and pushed my key into it, hearing the old brass key squeak in the rusted lock as I turned it. With a clunk, the door opened, and I stepped indoors. Home sweet home, my humble abode in the midst of the Midlands. I set my guitar down on the side of the table and went upstairs to get ready for bed. When in my bathroom, I saw something odd. Swirling around under the sink was a strange black cloud. It didn't look like smoke, as the consistency was too thin. It also hadn't set off the fire alarm. I opened the doors below to take a look, wondering if this was a prank.
There was more of it down there. "RICH PICKINGS!" a voice suddenly bellowed, and I was consumed by the smoke. A huge cloud of the stuff enveloped me, seeping into my skin through pores, my nostrils, and my mouth.
"What the hell is going on?!" I shouted, possibly waking the neighbours up in the process. But in the time, I felt sharp pains all across my body. My feet felt like they were in a vice, and most of my clothing got ripped off in the process. I looked down through the smoke, which was fading now, to see hooves where my feet should have been.
I had no chance to react, as seering pain roared all across my body as it shrank in size. Leg bones snapped and reformed, my knee joints shattering and reforming the other way around. My hips shifted in proportion and size, forcing me forwards into what seemed like a quadrapetal stance. My arms followed, just the other way around, now with the limb swinging inwards rather than their old direction. Not to mention my shoulders had snapped apart and reformed to push them downwards.
Speaking of arms, my hands were soon reduced to nothing but hooves. I was still in a state of shock as my rear started to tingle, and then without warning my tailbone began lengthening, a two tone turquoise tail (what a lot of alliteration) popping out of my butt and growing to a very short length.
Was this horse male? I had little chance to ponder over it as my body was once more consumed by raging agony. My neck stretched upwards like a giraffe, being ludicrously long and thin. My eyes turned an unnaturally bright blue as I was covered in a thick layer of grey fur. My ears slid up the sides of my head until they poked straight upwards like giant radar dishes, and my hair, short, dishevelled, and messy, was also turned to these turquoise shades, leaving a gap for a horn that popped out of my forehead.
My former clothing then morphed into a brown cloak, which secured itself in place around me. Breathing hard, and shaking in terror, I tried to move forward to the mirror, but almost immediately fell over as I couldn't get any of my limbs to cooperate.
"Enjoy your new life, Stygian!" laughed a voice, and before I knew it sleep assaulted my senses. I tried to fight it and stay awake, but there was no point whatsoever. My eyes began to slide closed, and I collapsed onto the floor, the darkness of the night claiming me. It was no use. I had fallen captive to the night, and it had dark designs for me.
It was a while before I recovered my consciousness, and all was very dark at first, followed by everything in my eyesight being incredibly blurry. The room in front of me was a featureless, confusing fuzz of nothing, with random colours and lights revolving in and out. It was rather like I was on a merry go round, but I didn't know of any merry go rounds that featured such odd colours or such loud voices. And why were there folk instruments playing in the background? I'm certain that there was a hurdy gurdy somewhere in the sound mix. That was not a usual combination of instruments.
"Oh, my head," I groaned, as I got up, and immediately fell over. I soon found out why. That incident of becoming a horse hadn't been a horrible nightmare, but in fact reality. My vision had returned to normal, and there were large numbers of ponies in this room, full of chairs and tables, complete with many rows of tankerds waiting to be filled with what I assumed to be beer or ale. The sight of alcohol wasn't helping my constitution either. I still had a thumping headache, and my thick tongue revealed I had crooked, misshapen teeth. I trotted forward, trying to raise a concern with another pony.
"Hello?" I asked them, a giant stallion who looked as though he could flatten mountains with his rippling forelegs and mountains of muscle.
"What brings y'all here?" he asked. "Not often that we get Griffish ponies around here, ya know? Ah didn't see ya none before? What's yer name?"
"I'm Stygian," I said, "and I must have collapsed somewhere over there, as this is the first thing that I can recall in any detail. I must have been in a fuddle and tried to huddle by the griddle, but I slipped in a puddle and the world went reeling."
"Puddles are nasty," the pony admitted. "Be glad ya weren't called by the fiddle ta the middle of the muddle."
Why were we suddenly quoting Tolkien? It seemed as if this night was simply going to keep getting stranger and stranger. But I held my nerve. "Stay calm, Stygian," I said to myself. "There's always a light at the end of the tunnel, assuming that light isn't an oncoming train." I was fully aware of my weakened state. I seemed to be a small, frail unicorn, with little magic and no idea of either what my body was capable of or where I was in the world. Not even the air conditioning fans could help me figure out where I was, as most of the United States and Canada had air conditioned buildings (that, or copious amounts of ice or massive ceiling fans, like the ones you see in Old West movies).
We spoke with one another for a while, until I suddenly heard some previously hushed voices become raised. Two ponies had begun to argue with each other, but their accents made it almost impossible to understand. Just as the drink that the other pony had ordered arrived (he bought me one, which I thought was very nice), it became so heated that it turned to blows. One threw his leading hoof at the other, which turned into a return blow, and then the other pony hit back, and so on and so forth until one grabbed his chair and smashed it over the other pony's head.
Somehow, the chair broke, not the other pony's head. But they weren't happy, and they slammed the beer glass down and it shattered into pieces. A huge number of other ponies charged in and began brawling. Bricks, planks of wood, and flying glass shards flew everywhere. One pony was thrown through a table and crashed into it. The table disintegrated upon the impact, indicating it was rather cheaply made.
Another flew through the bar and went sliding onto the floor. Beer kegs went rocketing through the air like missiles, exploding upon impact and drenching those brawling in alocohol. All the while ponies continued to be catapaulted all over the place by patrons and brawlers alike. My new friend had even joined in on the fun, although I had no idea if he was having any success.
I concluded that, as a scrawny unicorn, I had no chance of fighting them off, so I finished my drink and galloped for the door. I went through it, and out into the cold night sky. I looked up, and then realised where I was. I was in a city I had been in many years earlier, as a human.
New Orleans.
"How did I get from Nottingham to New Orleans?" I asked myself. "There's no chance I could have flown there. Was I perhaps teleported here after that fog incident?"
I had little chance to think or even dwell on that, however. Above me, I suddenly noticed that there was something overhead that would be rather concerning if simply left alone. Above me was a building that was still under construction. The pylons and beams were still visible, and much of the superstructure and cladding looked insecure, to put it mildly. I was trying to understand how this building was still standing, when suddenly there was a loud bang, followed by a series of even more loud bangs. As I looked up in shock, the building started to collapse above me, and then began to fall downwards towards my location!
"Good Heavens!" I cried, and galloped as fast as I could towards the edge of the area as I could. I darted across the road, a streetcar slamming its brakes on and screeching to a halt to avoid hitting me, as more masonry and rubble crashed onto the road and the rails in front of it. Most of the structure toppled to the bottom of the canyon of urban buildings, totally blocking the street and rendering it impossible for anything to pass by the mountains of rubbish now blocking the area off from the rest of the city.
"Somebody wants me dead," I panted, and sped off down the street as fast as my little legs could carry me away from the looming danger. Up ahead, there was a turning, and I ignored the shouting from humans and ponies alike as I made my way towards the turning. I skidded round a left hand bend, narrowly dodging a lady who appeared to have gotten lost on her way to a Gone with the Wind reenactment, and then dived into a bush to let some humans walk by, who seemed totally nonchalent about everything happening in New Orleans tonight. First a pony bar fight, now collapsing buildings? I hardly imagined this was a typical night on the town around here. Once they were gone, I made my merry way towards the edge of the Jackson Square district. The place was quiet, barring for the odd scammer and a few people who had apparently blown their minds out in a car (and not noticed that the lights had changed). Once I reached the edge of the water that marked the boundary of the Mississippii River. Sitting on the water's edge was a boat. I dived into it, and then I realised something. I had no idea how to use magic or anything of the sort, not being used to being a unicorn (I had only been one for three hours at best, so that was mildly peturbing).
My horn suddenly illuminated, and gribbed the two oars that sat on either side of the boat. And the two oars suddenly began to row, row, row the boat, gently across the Mississippi. The boat flew along the water and bounced up and down on the small waves being made by passing tankers and other watery vehicles. Life could not be said to be a dream at that moment. More like a nightmare from which I couldn't wake up.
It was quite the perilous crossing, I can tell you, good reader. I floated and rowed for what felt like hours, but at long last I reached the other side. It was hear I realised I had another problem to face. On the other side of the water was nothing but a giant maze of bayous and swamps, which I had no clue how to navigate. As the saying goes, I had hopped out of the frying pan and jumped straight into the fire, and yes, make your Jeff Buckley jokes.
I had to find civilisation in this tangled mess of trees, swamps, and alligators big enough to swallow cars whole. I headed onwards, through the dangling routes of trees and hard to navigate masses of wood and rocks, hoping I wouldn't trip on anything as I went along the way towards what I hoped would be my salvation.
Little did I realise, I was being shadowed. But I paid that no heed as I tried to make my way through the tangled mess of roots.
It was here I realised I had another problem to face. On the other side of the water was nothing but a giant maze of bayous and swamps, which I had no clue how to navigate. As the saying goes, I had hopped out of the frying pan and jumped straight into the fire, and yes, make your Jeff Buckley jokes.
I had to find civilisation in this tangled mess of trees, swamps, and alligators big enough to swallow cars whole. I headed onwards, through the dangling routes of trees and hard to navigate masses of wood and rocks, hoping I wouldn't trip on anything as I went along the way towards what I hoped would be my salvation.
Little did I realise, I was being shadowed. But I paid that no heed as I tried to make my way through the tangled mess of roots.
It was extremely dark in the mass of trees, and although it was night time it was still very hot. All this fur I had gained as horrible given the weather, as my cloak was now sticking to my body and my skin was slick with sweat. I could do with something to drink, but I got the impression there weren't any soda machines around here, so I decided to press onwards to try and find somewhere to sleep for the night. A town would be nice. I had heard legends of entire communities who still lived in the swamps for a variety of reasons, ranging from tradition, to preserving their old ways of life, to even hiding from the law. I hoped that if I came acrosss such a settlement, I didn't run into the criminal type. I continued to venture through the dark. It was dark, but it most certainly wasn't quiet. The crickets and bugs were chirping almost constantly, and if anything them being quiet for a moment would be something of a blessing.
To spur myself onwards, I started quietly humming a tune to myself. I had to take my mind off the weirdness of this entire situation somehow, so a jolly tune somehow fitted the bill. All around me, the buzzing and whirring continued, until I found a pair of metal rails running parallel through the swamp. I stopped, looked left, and then right, and waited.
I was right to wait, as a train suddenly barrelled out of the darkness and roared past, horn blaring and wheels squealing as it thundered by. I took the time to count the cars, but lost count somewhere around 55. At long last, after what felt like an eternity, the back of the train finally cleared the position where I stood, and I was free to continue. I walked across, and into the next stage of the swamp.
The second part couldn't have been more different to the first. The chirping was magnified a hundredfold, and the plantlife, far from being dark and obscured by the darkness, instead seemed to glow with magnificent ethereal energy, in many different colours. I've always been stunned by bioluminescence, and this place was especially beautiful.
I exhaled, looking in wonder at all that was around me. The plants glowed, and almost lit my way through the dense plantwork. I sped up my pace. "I shall have to come back with a camera some day!" I panted, as although I hadn't been going very far, I was already running out of breath. I could safely infer that Stygian was seriously unfit. Or rather, that I was seriously unfit.
At long last, I reached a grove, with a small lake in the middle. I stepped up to the clearing, and saw a horde of glowing bees on the other side of the water. Approaching them from a nearby position was a pony with blue fur and a red mane, done up in a topknot behind the mask she was wearing. She also had various bronze bracelets on her, and wore some cream fabric around her neck, as well as a green skirt with a single cream band running along the bottom.
She was absolutely stunning, and I daresay I nearly fell for her then and then. But this sighting confirmed something crucial to me. There were ponies in this world, and they were living not far from here.
"Hello?" I called. "Is there a village near here?"
They didn't respond, so I tried again. "Hello?" I called. "Is there a vil-"
I never had a chance to finish my sentence. As I was about to pronounce the last syllable of 'village', there was a bang from my right hand field of audio, and seconds after that there was a piercing bolt of pain that shot through my flank, followed by another bang.
"ARGHHHHHH!" was my only response. In the circumstances no other response would have been possible. I collapsed onto the floor, unable to stand. I was certain that a limb had been broken in the impact, but I had no way of verifying. As much as there was physical pain, I also could not concentrate on what was happening. The world in front of me had begun to revolve, like I was on a merry go round. But this was no merry go round.
Whomever had fired the shot had vanished, and I was alone. Before I knew what was going on, I found myself being scooped up by the pony and loaded onto her back. Then, as swift as the wind, she began to gallop back across the fields and swampy land, at great speed as she could manage. I will admit I cannot remember much of the journey back as I was still in a daze, but it would not be long until we arrived in a town built mostly on stilts and wood. Running between buildings was some elevated walkway, designed to keep ponies out of the soapy water below.
"Who's that?" I heard a voice ask.
"No time ta explain! He needs medical attention, now!" the pony who had rescued me replied. Her voice was muffled under the mask, but it sounded somehow familiar (despite the fact I didn't know any Cajun people or ponies. Or ponies full stop, for that matter, as I had lived in a city). I was carried in through some doors and layed down on a table, where another pony, who had purplish fur and a yellowy mane, looked over.
"Yer in a hurry!" she said. "What does this guy need?"
"No time ta explain, ma!" my rescuer replied, before removing her mask and grabbing a torch. "He needs urgent medical help, and-" She looked more closely, in clear confusion at my face. "Stygian?"
That familiar face, the blue fur and eyes, clearly showed to me that my safety was at hand. "Meadowbrook," I spluttered, most of my strength spent. "Help..."
Meadowbrook sped off to get some potions and medical equipment. Safe to say, I had never been in her clinic before, and considering her skills as a battlefield medic, what wonders could she perform with all her tools?
Both of those ponies got to work whilst my mind continued to roam, unable to focus due to all the interference. It was then the voices started.
"Stygian..." it said softly.
"Who's there?" I asked, in my head of course as I was barely able to speak.
"This is my plan, after all," said the voice again. "Your world is not your own, and this dimension is my trapping place. For centuries, I have lingered long in this world whilst my enemies left their fragments here to ensure I could never rise again!"
"What?" I asked. I had no idea what he was on about.
"You must know them. You are being operated on by one of the Pillars of Old Equestria! Have you not questioned how or why they are here? It is because they performed a great spell thousands of years ago to trap me and themselves here. But a great procephy soon did run; Two shall become Six, and the Six shall Become One. Their might will become unstoppable, and their Victory shall Shake the Heavens! It is obvious what it refers to."
I still wasn't following a word of this, though whether that was because of the pain or the painkilling substances I had ingested I had no idea. But still that voice continued. "They left their artefacts so that others would find them, and stop me. Well, I can't let that happen, I'm afraid. You're my backup plan, you see. Time to say goodbye!"
With that, dark energies clawed at my mind, forcing my consciousness back. I screamed inside, and tried to hold them off as best I could, but my weakened mental state and broken soul made it impossible. The shadow could not be stopped. My mind was its prey, and took what it wanted. I was wreathed in darkness, in pain, the very thing that was to end reality itself.
But still that voice continued. "They left their artefacts so that others would find them, and stop me. Well, I can't let that happen, I'm afraid. You're my backup plan, you see. Time to say goodbye!"
With that, dark energies clawed at my mind, forcing my consciousness back. I screamed inside, and tried to hold them off as best I could, but my weakened mental state and broken soul made it impossible. The shadow could not be stopped. My mind was its prey, and took what it wanted. I was wreathed in darkness, in pain, the very thing that was to end reality itself.
I... had become one... with the darkness.
Have you ever felt, or witnessed, a situation where your body is no longer yours and won't obey you? This was what this set of circumstances was like. The entity that was now running my body had mercilessly shoved me aside, and cloaked my form in the shadows of darkness, creating a creature not disimilar to an alicorn. They awoke from the table and smashed their way onto the floor, firing a blast of energy at one of the ponies and sending her flying.
"Ma!" Meadbowbrook cried, and ran over to her.
"Rich pickings," the entity said, smiling on its dark, demonic face. "Without the other Pillars here, destroying this place and removing you will be a doddle!"
Stop! I screamed inside this creature's head. Can't you see the damage you're causing?!
"Oh, I am fully aware of this damage I am inflicting, though I consider it a blessing to this place," the entity said, in response to my question. "But I don't just see it... I revel in it. Bring about the end of the times!"
He was now outdoors, his giant wings spreading and dragging through the walls of the building, bringing down the front facade. He stepped forward, and laughed loudly.
"Citizens of Hayseed Swamp, heed my words!" he boomed, his voice echoing and very distorted. "Your pitiful attempt to imprison me has failed, 'Pillars of Old Equestria'! Now, I have returned to this world, and you are powerless to stop me!"
"Ah'll never give up!" Meadowbrook shouted, sprinting at the entity, mask on and energy spewing from something or other. The entity just responded by firing an energy tendril at her, which pinned her in place.
Meadowbrook, get back! I attempted to call psychically, but it was no use. The entity had total control, and had shut me out. There was no way I could get them to hear me now. I was a prisoner in my own body, hijacked by an evil being from ancient past.
"Where was I? Ah, yes, I remember," the entity went on. "It is time to start my conquest of this pathetic planet called 'Earth', starting with this little town and neighbouring swamps! A most fitting appetiser for what will be an incredible meal, I reckon!"
Meadowbrook had succeeded in freeing herself from the tendril, and charged around. "Does this guy ever shut up?" she asked, firing a beam from her mask. Did the mask have enough innate magical energy to allow the wearer to do such a marvellous feat, when a unicorn such as myself failed at levitation?"
"Close, but no cigar," The entity said. "Without the other Pillars here and without their artefacts, I'm afraid that your little banishing spell is useless." He fired another beam, which destroyed several sections of pathway and left places innacessible. "This world is replete in magic and power, and I WANT IT ALL!"
Safe to say, we were all in deep trouble. But I tried to fight him myself, as I had no control over what was nominally my body. Don't do this! I begged. You have nothing to gain from trying to destroy everything!
"Silence, you pathetic worm!" the entity bellowed, clearly annoyed by my prescence. "I only have a set time limit in which I can control the body of another, thanks to those developments that Project 722 cooked up. But this one in my head is almost as... strong as the legendary, Starswirl. But even in my weakened state, you cannot stop the might of shadows! Don't fret. When I extinguish the light and hope of this miserable world, you won't remember any of this."
He continued firing erratically, clearly not used to having a definite physical form. This gave me an idea. I could possibly disrupt what he was doing by influencing him with my own nervous system. As he lined up a shot on a building, I pulled my neck up as hard as I could (spiritually speaking, being a blob at the back of what used to be my own mind). The entity's own head pulled upwards and the shot flew into the air, going upwards eternally into the sky.
"What?!" the entity demanded. "How is this possible?!"
This is my body you're occupying, I said, And that means I am still connected to it in some way or form. Since I don't take kindly to things hijacking it, I'm afraid you'll just have to put up with it.
"No more excuses!" the entity shouted, the world only hearing one half of our conversation. "No more misdirection! I'll be taking this place with me!" He charged his horn up one last time to obliterate Hayseed Swamp. But luckily, one individual who wasn't too keen on seeing that happen was now back on her feet.
Mage Meadowbrook was back in action, and sprinted in front of the creature. Raising her mask, she shouted something- I couldn't tell what it was, as her voice was muffled by the mask- and the charged energy from the entity's spell was pulled into the mask itself, directing it safely away from the village and into the mask, saving it!
"What sorcery is this? Earth Ponies have no magic!"
Yes, I said, But they have a power you will never understand. Friendship!
The entity sounded as though it was about to growl out some sort of reply, but a loud ringing and beeping interrupted both of our thought processes. The entity looked around, annoyed. "Well, it looks like the time limit has expired," he said, sounding annoyed. "But this isn't the end of this. I will return, more powerful than before, and this world will be bathed in shadow! This land will embrace the darkness, just as it embraced so many others!" With a blinding flash, the entity and all its construct of shadow vanished, and I was back in control.
Back in control of my own body. I looked around at the devastation, and looked down at the ground as Meadowbrook galloped over.
"Are y'all alright?" she called to the villagers. The purple pony I referred to earlier seemed to be fine as well, as she stepped forward to help with cleaning up the mess.
Meadowbrook reached me, and quickly checked me over. "No lastin' injuries or scarrin'," she said. "Ah think yer in the clear."
I continued to look at the ground. "I'm so sorry," I said quietly. "I should take responsibility for this."
"Now whatever would cause ya to think somethin' like that, huh?" Meadowbrook asked me. "That weren't yer fault none. Ah think Ah know what that device we found stuck in you was. It were some sorta dark magic device that allowed a bein' of darkness to take control of another body fer a short time. And if he cannot yet adopt a full form without possessin' somepony else, that buys us time."
"Who?" I asked. "Who was that being of darkness?"
Meadowbrook produced a book from nowhere and laid it down. "Ancient writin' makes reference to a bein' called the Evil One, who had to be sealed away by a great sacrifice made by six individuals a lon' time ago. This creature must have ended up here alon'side artefacts of those heroes and is now tryin' ta cause havoc."
This story was sounding familiar. "The ones who sacrificed themselves were the Pillars!" I exclaimed. "But instead of being trapped in limbo, they were hurled across dimensions to this world! This is proving to be quite the headache."
"However, the Pillars thought ahead and left artefacts of themselves to allow others ta continue the fight," Meadowbrook went on. "Myself bein' one of them. But writin' from this world talks of creatures made entirely of shadow. Ah originally suspected that it were just drunken reports of innocous thin's. But after havin' seen that, Ah realise that the bein' we saw today, the Evil One of the books, and the creatures made of shadow all refer to the same bein'."
I didn't like where this was going one bit. "I think I know what you're going to say," I said glumly, looking at the ground again.
Meadowbrook looked equally concerned. "The entity we are fightin' against is the Pony of Shadows, who has returned to get his revenge! We never truly sealed him away! All we did was put another world in danger!"
The return of the Pony of Shadows (although some of the villagers preffered an altogether more profane name too rude to repeat here) was certainly a worrying development, and meant that we were all painfully aware of the danger that the world was in. We also had to rebuild Hayseed Swamp and repair all the damage inflicted to the place, which was a lot. Pathways to rebuild, walls to put back up, and many other things needed fixing, in which I made sure to play my part in helping the villagers rebuild their shattered community. The fact I felt guilt over the whole mess may have played a factor in that, but I digress on that front.
A concern that hit me during this time was that I lacked a place to live myself. Whilst hardly the biggest of problems considering the circumstances in which we found ourselves, it was still enough of a worry for me that I asked Meadowbrook if, once we had completed repairs to the tree which she called home, I could stay for a short while whilst I found my bearings.
She stated I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted. I was stunned at the generosity of this gesture, and I agreed to lodge there whilst trying to figure out what to do. However, I didn't want to be simply seen as freeloading on her hospitality, and as a result I was quick to start to search for a line of employment.
I had been a musician in the past life, which seemed thousands of years ago now (even though it was just a few days). I wondered if searching for such a line of employment here would work. I noticed that amongst the possessions that had materialised in the room in which I lodged was a fiddle. I had been a guitarist, so I wasn't sure if I could play it, but having no fingers made plucking strings impossible. Gripping a bow, on the other hand, and holding up a fiddle proved to be no problem, as ponies had surprisingly good balance on their hind legs. Granted, they couldn't walk around like that, but it made playing instruments which required leaning back a lot easier, as otherwise I would have needed a chair.
It was one morning that I got the break I needed. I had joined Meadowbrook at breakfast (Wellspring, or whatever her name was, was off on business elsewhere in the State). I ate my way through some grits (which actually tasted quite nice, despite looking like a messy grey mush), and once I was done I decided to raise my voice. "Meadowbrook?" I asked.
She glanced up from her place. "Yes, Stygian?" she asked in return.
"I would like to thank you for your generosity in allowing me to stay here," I began, "but I am concerned that I may be simply freeloading on your hospitality. As a result, I wish to try and find a job so that I may bring some income of my own in and not simply subsist of off yours."
Meadowbrook nodded. "That's understandable. What were ya thinkin' of doin'?"
"I had an idea of something related to music," I said, "seeing as I can play the fiddle. I've still got some words I want to tweak, but I think I can put a set together."
"The Hayseed Bar and Smokehouse currently has a vacancy," Meadowbrook replied. "The former guy set off fer pastures new in Georgia, but Ah'm certain you'll fit in just fine. Now, what line were ya strugglin' with?"
I turned my music book round and showed it to her. "It's this one here," I said. "Gambol and totter till you're hotter than a- and I have no idea what to end the phrase with. As a matter of fact, I'm not sure it makes much sense at all."
Meadowbrook scanned over the entire text. "You've adapted the old tale of Hurricane gettin' drunk at the Traveller's Rest!" she exclaimed. "That tale's an old favourite of mine. Here's a suggestion for a word ta slot in; 'hatter'."
"As in a person who makes hats?" I asked. "Gambol and totter till you're hotter than a hatter. But that doesn't make much sense."
"Ah don't mean ta sound rude, Stygian," Meadowbrook replied, "but the rest of that bridge don't make much sense neither."
I resisted the urge to correct her grammar, given her dialect, and smiled. "Thanks for the help."
"No problem."
The Hayseed Bar and Smokehouse was absolutely packed. Then again, it was a Friday night, when most of the ponies would have a relaxing evening after a week hard at work toiling the fields, collecting things, and sailing past alligators who difted lazily by, staring at them with intense suspicion. I guess that the more that things change, the more that they stay the same, eh?
I trotted nervously onto stage and tapped gently on the microphone. "Bonsoir mesdames et messieurs. Comment vas-tu cette belle soirée?" I asked. (for those wondering, that means, "Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. How are you this fine evening?")
"Just speak in English," said a voice. "We all speak it anyways."
I nodded. "Well, good evening, ladies and gentlemen. How are you this fine evening?"
There was a roar of approval from the crowd.
"Thank you. I am Stygian, the new musician and performer who will be performing here for a little while. I have a number of different tunes for tonight, but I thought we should start with this one. It's one I've written myself, about an old piece of folklore from the foundation of Equestria, the Tale of the Traveller's Rest. I hope you enjoy it."
I glanced to the backing group, and then to Meadowbrook, who was seated at a table facing the stage. She nodded approvingly, and with a smile. She'd come along to support me, and also to potentially dispell any unwanted comments from the Earth ponies here about unicorns.
I raised my fiddle and began to play, my voice quivering a bit as I started.
"There's an inn of old renown where they brew a beer so brown Hurricane came rolling down the hill one Wodnsday night to drink his fill!
"On a three-stringed cello there played the Owner's pat so fair The hornèd cow that night was seen to dance a jig upon the green; Called by the fiddle to the middle of the muddle, where the cow with a caper sent the small dog squealing; Hurricane in a fuddle went to huddle by the griddle, but he slipped in a puddle and the world went reeling!
"Downsides went up- hey! Outsides went wide! As the fiddle played a twiddle and Hurricane slept till Sonnertag! Upsides went west- hey! Broadsides went boom! With a twiddle on the fiddle in the middle by the griddle and Hurricane slept till Sonnertag!"
The floor abruptly erupted in dancing as we continued playing. So we started the next section.
"Mare from off the dresser pranced, found a colt and gaily danced! Ponies neighed and champed their bits, for Emperor Hurricane had lost his wits!
Well, cow jumped over, dog barked wild; Panzy lay prone and sweetly smiled! Puddinghead cried 'Play faster, Pat!' Because we all want to dance like that!"
"Gambol and totter till you're hotter than a hatter, and you spin all akimbo like a windmill flailing! Whirl with a clatter till you scatter every cotter, and the strings start a-pinging as the world goes sailing!"
"Downsides go up- hey! Outsides go wide! You can clatter with your platter, but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend! Upsides go west- hey! Broadsides go boom With a batter and a clatter you can shatter every platter, But Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!"
It was clear that the crowd were so into it that something had to be improvised. "Call and response!" I called to the band, and the accordion played a scale to wake everybody up.
Then we launched into the final repeat of the chorus.
"Downsides go up- hey! Outsides go wide With a twiddle on the fiddle in the middle by the griddle but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend! Upsides go west- hey! Broadsides go boom! With a batter and a clatter You can shatter every platter but Hurricane slept till Sonnabend!"
Safe to say, the crowd loved it. I hopped off the stage to have a quick drink to restore my spirits. "You were great!" called a cajun pony with a massive beard. "Ah hope you intend ta stay fer longer!"
"Thank you," I replied. "Perhaps Earth ponies aren't as fiercely territorial as I thought."
Just then, the door opened, and Meadowbrook had trotted over to greet whoever was entering. I decided to go look myself, and gasped when I saw an old friend enter the building. He was blue, with a wild mane of orange hair, and was oddly scrawny.
The individual looked around inside. "Well," he said, in a thick Scottish accent, "I've arrived. Am I still in time for a drink?"
