> Tales from the Rift
>  by Fonzie
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> Notes
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> Part 1
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It was a dark and stormy night, and a bus was driving down the highway, onboard the bus were a bunch of tourists, they all had different reasons for being on said bus.

Suddenly, the bus started to skid out of control, the driver did the best he could, but the bus skidded off the road.

Fortunately, no one was injured, but the bus had suffered from some flat tires, "but you can fix it, right?" Somepony said.

"I'm afraid I can't." The driver said, "the front wheels are punctured, and the repair pony won't be here until morning, so we're gonna be stuck here until further notice."

Another pony said that, "there was a restaurant that we passed by, we could stay there until the storm passes."

And so the group made it's way to the restaurant, which was called "the rift cafe." They entered and saw they were the only ones here... Except for one pony, who was sitting in complete darkness. "I've been expecting you." He said. "Allow me to introduce myself, my name is vlad, and you folks are right on time."
Everypony was confused, except for one. "Look, so you know when the storm will end, i'm planning on going fishing."

"No, but I do know one thing, how you're going to die."

The pony was confused now, "What do you mean."

"I mean I hold the knowledge of your future death, would like to listen."

thinking it's a joke, the other pony said "all right wise guy, how am I going to die."
> Political Pull
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It all began in ponyville, just days before the day of the mayoral election, and there were two candidates, the popular, mayor mare, and his rival, Cyrus mangate.

The mayor was taking a stroll through town, waving hello to every pony that she saw, when she was relaxing at home, there was a knock at the door, opened it and saw it was... "mr. Mangate, what brings you here?"

"I just thought I'd come over for lunch." he said, with a devious plan in mind. The mayor agreed and the two candidates chatted, while they were chatting, Cyrus secretly poured something into the mayor's drink.

"You know mare, I think you might be able to beat me in the election for the fourth time in a row."

"I wouldn't be to sure about that, I think things will be a little different." She was unaware how different they would be.

"Well, I bet if you died you'll get a huge funeral from everypony in town." The mayor took a sip of his drink, "unless they think you're nothing but a crooked politician, then they'll just dump your body in the ocean."

"I don't feel so good." Mayor mare said.

"Well, I may have put arsenic in your cider."

The mayor's eyes widened in shock, then collapsed to the floor.

"And I hope you don't you don't mind, but I did you a favor and write your suicide note.

When cyrus finished setting up the scene, he removed any possible pieces of evidence of his presence, and left.

The following week everyone found out about the death of their beloved mayor, they gave him a lavish funeral, and wondered who killed him, Cyrus was the prime suspect because what he didn't know what was that a gentle breeze blew the note off the table and under a shelf, so he was placed in a holding cell until further notice. 

But one day, "sir, you won't believe what we found!" a guard told shining armor. He showed him the note, which detailed her 'crimes', which involved money laundering, voter fraud, and worst of all, stealing the last pack of pop tarts at Wal-Mart. (yes they exist here)

So Cyrus was let go, while everypony was shocked by mayor's 'confession note', they were so shocked, that Cyrus led a mob in removing the mayor's coffin and dumping it in the ocean.

Then the day of the election came by, and since no one else ran, Cyrus became the new mayor.

"I did it, I got what i wanted, and smeared the mayor's reputation for good."

One day, Cyrus went to the local docks where a certain pony worked, "good morning mayor mangate."

"Good morning vlad"

"I got your boat ready, I'd join you, but they're having a 24 hour "Rocky horror picture show" marathon tonight."

So, the mayor went fishing on his own, unaware that it was at the same spot where the former mayor was dumped.

An hour passed, and he didn't catch a single fish, and a storm was coming, so Cyrus started to raise the anchor... But it was stuck.

He struggled to pull the rope, but he accidentally knocked the boat's motor into the water, and the storm arrived, unleashing it's fury on the small boat.

Cyrus peered over the side of the boat and prayed that whatever the anchor was caught on held on as long as it could, but then he saw something that made his blood run cold, there was a pony-like figure, climbing up the rope, Cyrus froze in place, he couldn't stop staring at the figure.

Suddenly, a rotted hoof grabbed into the side of the boat, making Cyrus fall on his back and shout, "WHO ARE YOU!!!"

He got his answer, when he saw the face of the pony, "n-no. no, it can't be!"

But it was, it was mayor mare, or what was left of her, waterlogged, bits of flesh gone, seaweed stuck in its hair.

Without warning, it shot another hoof out, grabbing Cyrus by one of his back hooves, he struggled, screamed for help, and begged for it to let him go, but to no avail, he was eventually dragged off the boat, into the raging waters, where he still struggled to free himself, but he was eventually dragged underwater, and the storm had ended.

well, I hope this story gave you an insight on how the stories should go, but the stories don't have to be from tales from the crypt, or anything related to the series, they can be from other horror anthologies, or completely original. Now, let's get back to our group, and see how the next one will die.
> Part 2
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"And that's how you will die." Vlad said.

Cyrus silently walked over to an empty table,not believing what the pony said. A minotaur known as iron will walked up to him. "So you can see how we'll die huh."

"That's right, in fact you'll die in ponyville, in a restaurant that you own."

"that's right, and the way you'll die will be at the hands of the world's smartest creature... Rats"

Iron will laughed and said " and just how is a small rodent going to kill me."

"Listen closely, maybe you'll see."
> Rat Trap
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

iron will tapped his big cigar on the wood of his desk to pack the tobacco down firmly, there was a no smoking indoors law in Ponyville but as far as he was concerned; his office, his rules. His employees sat in chairs looking like they on trial, and while they weren't in any major trouble he still some discipline to dish out. "Do You two know why i wanted to speak with you?'' He said flipping the lighter and bringing the flame to the tip, his powerful lungs sucked and puffed on the ashes to get a good burn going, the eighty gauge Lunatic brand stoggie usually was a good three hour slow burner but Iron was one to enjoy the smoke itself and the act of smoking cigars not the mellow slow flavor the way most afficiandos did.

The first one the green lanky built stallion leaned back in his chair a bit trying to play it cool as he gave a smug smart alleck smile and said. "Hey big boss no need to thank old Zep for a job well done, it's what I live for well that and my day job as a mane stylist you know." Iron was so tempted to wrap his meat spider like growths at the end of his forehooves and choke hold the little idiot the way his old Drill SGT. did in the core. He settled for slamming one on the desk in rage,



"No you lunkheaded boob! I'M mad! Do you know what I caught in the pantry this morning." he said as he moved a hand to a cloth covering something on his desk he grasped it but didn't lift the cover just yet.

"Uhhh a lucky penny?" Zepher asked,

"The new fridge to keep salads fresh?" His sister guessed

"Wrong, I found this little rodent, digging in the peanut cookies." Iron Will lifted the cloth cover and revealed a cage, sitting inside was a rat. The dark brown fur sticking out at all directions frizzy, matted with Celestia knows what. The front teeth yellow and long with a chip on the left tooth under the bent frizzy whiskers, and the tail worn down and ragged clearly an old and dirty desheveled rat. "Do you have any idea what the Dept. Of Health would do if they found rats...no A rat even in the kitchen?! I'll be ruined!...and the both of you will be outta work." He added that last bit in an attempt to not sound self centered. "I'm not pointing any fingers here, but you." He turned his gaze toward's zepher who cringed and shrunk down in his seat somewhat in fear. "You're getting lazy again and leaving food out or messes half cleaned up. Doing so ALWAYS attracts pests, I want this place spotless Zepher or else...and you Fluttershy." He paused, her and Iron had something of a history together, a torrid one but history none the less.




"You're too soft on these little...buggers, I didn't get snap traps and posion just for you to use frilly butterfly nets and cages to keep them alive, I know you love animals unconditionally and all that...jazz." His pause was cause he was trying to not swear around her, a soft spot in his hard as stone heart. "You want a problem to go away you gotta attack it head on and without hesitation and in the case of rats that ruin a venture like mine...with out mercy." With that Iron Will opened a desk drawer and began to lay a few objects on the desktop; a heavy glove, a block of wood, some disenfectant, a rag, and then the worst of all. This made Fluttershy curl her hooves around her face but she dared not cover her eyes if only because Iron Would yell at her not too. Her brother's mouth hung open in a mix of awe and disgust as he realized what Iron was planing.



He placed a hatchet on the desk, then put the heavy glove on one hand. His expression unchanged from its stoic unmoving emotionless look. Not sadistic by any means but still one of a male not one for any of the traits the yellow mare beside him or her friends embodied. I don't know if any of your little friends will see this...my filthy friend, but I will make an example out of you come here." He said his teeth gritted as he lifted the cage door and wrapped his meaty apendages around the rat just as it bolted for the cage. The glove made his efforts at bitting the hand that held him to escape as fruitless as a condemend pony on the way to the gallows.

"Mr. Iron please don't do this, i can give him a home, give him shots if he's got any disease, and keep him from the resturant but please for Celestia's sake don't do this to the poor fella." Fluttershy begged almost contemplating putting her hoof in the blade's path to stop it. Her brother wasn't snivley but even he thought this was going too far past the line of sensable pest control.

"Boss come on man, it's not even like there are other rats around to see this, and even if there is they won't understand seeing...what you're gonna do, they're animals boss." His words did nothing to move Iron's descision and his sister only looked at him with a look of 'really?' regaurding his animals comment.

"Oh you two don't like wathcing my stance on keeping pests outta my resturant? Then keep it clean and keep them out of it or the next one will be a full on firing squad you'll be required to see." He said with his nose flaring and huffing hot breath's in a thrill of a kill, even if it wasn't them. Iron placed the squirming little rat as it screeched and struggled to get free as Iron's other hand raised the Hatchet over his head poised to deliver the lethal strike. His lips now smiling in delight his eyes fixed soley on his..victim. The rats head just over the edge of the block the rag layed out under it. With a growl bordering on a guttural savage roar, Iron Will brought the hatchet down, mirroring the very minotaur he was in the ledgends with battle axes so huge they split their victims clean in two.

Fluttershy threw her hooves up and turned away not caring if he fired her for it. Zepher turned a darker shade of green and tried to contain his urge to vomit as the rat head rolled after giving one last squeak and death rattle as it landed on the rag. a stream of blood across it and running up a good lenght of Iron Will's arm. He took a long drag on his cigar so big it turned a good lenght of it to ashes that fell right off, the kind one takes after a session of making sweet love. And he blew the smoke right onto the lifless rat corpse, the dirty matted fur soaking up more filthy in the smoke that he blew on it.

"Now get out both of you and and remember what I said about keeping this place clean." He said in a much calmer more relaxed tone now.




He was unaware of it then but above him near the celling, in the cracks of the walls and tiny holes. Pairs of eyes had seen the whole thing. Yellow sick looking eyes with bloodshot streaks of red where the vessels where strained. and they were angry eyes.

A Few Hours Later.



"Mhhhmm hello fella's mhh you miss me?" Iron Will asked the stallions in the pictures of the magazine he was reading, a choice rag titled 'Construction Site Studs.' Iron considered himself an equal opportunity heart breaker, every wife's secret husband and every stallions closet wife, to paraphrase and old Roman Empire saying about Clopius II The usual copies of Stablehouse, Rustler and Playcolt as old as himself and a hand me down from his father in his teenage years mixed with new issues of Playfilly and other all Stallion rags and mags that said father would puke his guts up if he knew his son was reading them now.

Iron took a minute to enjoy the centerfold when he his sharp ears picked up a screech and a rustle of papers. Looking up from the mag he say a rat another one scrambling on the papers of his in and out box, "What THE?! Another one?!" He opened a differnt drawer this time drawing a long colt m1911 with a surpressor attatched to not raise any alarm he took aim down the sights and almost in blitz fury fired. The bullet tore through the papers, the plastic shelving and even the wall at the end of the room but the rat ran from the desk unscathed. "Oh wise guy eh?" Iron Will said as he stood up and aimed again. He didn't see the other pointed muzzle with the long teeth at the end and those yellow eyes as it poked thru the bullet hole.

"What the Hades? This place is infested!" He tossed the pistol away and not caring if anyone heard took the 12 gauge pump action shotgun off the wall with its eight buckshot ready shells and took aim as the pair of vermin perched on a bust of Starswirl above the office door. "Listen you little fleabags, I will not have my good name and my latest money maker ruined because of anyone, least of all rats." They only stared back with those eyes of yellow, they eyes on deranged maniac or evoking the insanity of a prisoner in some dungeon. Long gone mad from the isolation reaching through the bars no longer for freedom but rather to lash out at whoever came to close. Iron pulled the trigger and in a small cloud of gunsmoke and the loud crack of the shot gun. The bust of Starswirl was blasted to dust almost as if Iron Will was some assassin who took a sniper shot at him if only in effigy of stone.

The rat's where gone but their wasn't any blood on the walls, no bodies or remains of fur, he missed. He took a second to wipe some sweat from his brow and moved in front of his desk, looking around the room trying to get his bearings and take the blighters out. "Come on you filthy disgusting vermin. Iron Will always gets his due." He pumped his gun and ejected the spend shell, it clattered to the floor with a hollow ching and rolled across the carpet. Now two more Rats crawled from the hole he had blasted in the wall. The four of them scurried across the shelves Iron Will followed them with the gun barrel but didn't fire just yet. When they stopped he stopped with the barrel aimed dead in his sights as they perched on the safe sitting atop the office mantlepiece they stared back at him just as stoic and unmoving as him, but there was something else in their gaze. As if...they knew.

There was something of an understanding between him and the guests Iron Will set his weapon down, and he loosened his tie opening a few buttons on his white shirt. His nose snorting and eyes fixed on them just as he was when he killed the first one. He killed that one with his hands and a steel weapon now he had to deal with these rats the same way. "Ok, if that's how you want it." With that he picked the poker from the fireplace tools and raised it above his head swinging it at them. The rats statue like poses broken as they scampered away one skeeching as it took the cast iron to its body, a few organs ruptured, maybe internal bleeeding. The safe shook a bit and then settled back.

Iron Will chased and swung for them occasionally either knocking one clean across the room or driving more holes in his walls, which in turn made more crawl out from the wood work. Before long a wirthing black mass with squeaks and screechs and even hisses made its way to him, strecthing from in front of his desk to the office door, they had him corned. Iron Will swapped the poker for a putter from his office golf set for its closer to ground reach and tried to sweep the rats back but they just seemed to move close no longer running but more like a mini army marching on to battle. Iron climbed onto his chair hoping to make a last stand but it wasnt meant for him to be standing on it, it gave a creak and snapped making the minotaur land flat on his back on the floor. Looking up he could she he was just under the mantle, and the big heavy safe full of his profits within it steel womb.



A single rat made its way over his body Iron held back his disgust at the though of such a vile thing on him and then climbed onto his face. In an almost...sentient way the rat tilted its head as if to look at him and he could swear the mouth curled back showing all those nasty teeth in...a smile. Just as the shape of his safe tilting over the edge came into view a mass of black just behind it as it was headed right for his head.



"Hey Boss? You alright? I was on my way to put the cash away and well...I heard gunshots coming from the office were we being robbed?" Zephyr Breeze's voice called from the other side of the door as it slid open, "Boss?"
> Part 3
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"So you see, even the world's smallest creatures can be very crafty." Vlad turned to face another member of the group, who had his bags full of some loot, "and where are you going?"

" Well, I was on my way to the mountains outside of town. I would have flown there, but for some reason, something told me to take the bus."

"Well maybe after this tale, you'll want to stay clear of the mountains."
> The Bird Feeder
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Clippy Breeze's hooves touched down on solid earth for the first time in hours. His chosen perch was a jagged steeple of rock, narrow and sharp, jutting upwards into an overcast sky. Scant clusters of weed and moss dangled along the upper edges of the stone promontory, tickling at the pegasus' exposed flank and fetlocks beneath his thick woolly flight jacket.

The young stallion tossed his auburn mane back, freeing his goggles to be slid up by an athletic hoof, exposing handsome green eyes. Relaxing his gray-toned wings, he sat on the only flat stretch of stone available to him. There, he unhitched his saddlebag and took the opportunity to pore through the contents of his afternoon search.

Fishing through his satchel, Clippy Breeze produced a pair of necklaces. The pegasus had been lucky enough to have found them first; he snatched the jewelry from where they dangled off the branches of an errant tree that Clippy had found stretching bent and crooked off the side of another cliff. The chains were made of a gold alloy—which would likely fetch many a bright coin—but the pendants dangling from them had rusted over the centuries. In the fading daylight, the pegasus' eyes could make out the tarnished silhouette of an avian profile. No doubt these were ancient griffonese heirlooms; they would provide more value if he could find a traveling vendor from the eastern lands.

Snorting inwardly, Clippy shoved the necklaces back into the bag and fished around some more. Something grazed him—old and sharp—and he smirked past his grimace before producing a miniature scimitar. The metal of the blade was too worn and decrepit to be of value, but the handle was a thing of beauty. Just above the grip, an alicorn effigy had been sculpted out of pure ivory—which could only mean that the antique weapon hailed from many many years before such practices were outlawed... or at least when elephants still roamed the northern plains of Equestria. It was hard to believe that Clippy had found the item protruding from beneath the branches of a phoenix's long-vacant nest.

Whistling casually to himself, the pegasus held the mouth of the saddlebag even wider. Clippy reached in deep this time, pulling out a silver cylinder bespeckled all over in celestial intaglio. The top-piece featured a crescent moon with a seam down the center, and there was a switch at the very bottom. When his hoof pressed it, the top of the cylinder split open like a beetle's shell, and a tiny figurine of Nightmare Moon kissed the silver light of the dying day. The prancing figure turned about fifteen feeble degrees to the sound of discordant musical notes—before the mechanism went dormant altogether, its interior springs damaged by years of neglect and exposure to the high-altitude elements.

Clippy Breeze arched an eyebrow, relishing in the fact that the find was so pristine that he could even see his own reflection in the sides of the contraption. Despite its defective condition, there was no doubt he would rake in the most bits for this item and this item alone. He already imagined shoving the fact in his friends' face once they had all returned to the taverns at Skybreak Point for a round of cider, and it broadened his smirk all the more.

He gently placed the loot back into his saddlebag. As he tied the satchel shut, Clippy looked up into the western heavens, his eyes trailing after his own thoughts—in search of his companions. Also his competitors.

He saw three of them so far away that they resembled seagulls against a peasoup wave of mist. They were carving channels into a swath of overcast clouds, gradually exposing an even taller pillar of rock, layer by layer. The earthen architecture formed a charcoal black band of shadows from the setting sun, but even in the penumbra Clippy could see dozens if not hundreds of griffoneese spears and cannonballs embedded into the southeast face of the structure. Among the ancient detritus were remnants of Pegasopolitan glaives that were also stuck in the rock. Clippy snickered to himself; no doubt his friends had gotten so desperate that they were attempting to pawn in old artifacts of war that any pony could find in a Cloudsdalian museum.

He was the victor of that hunt. He was the victor of every hunt.

With a satisfied sigh, Clippy used his nimble wing feathers to unhitch a canteen from his side. There was still some spring water within; he had refilled the container earlier when he discovered a babbling brook beneath a snowline of a mountain that he and his friends had flown past hours earlier. Not only did he have an eye for precious things, but he had the wherewithal to take advantage of them.

As Clippy enjoyed the refreshing liquid rolling down his throat, he gazed idly eastward. With the advent of quickly-approaching night, the upper atmosphere had started to take on a dull purple hue. Here—so far northeast from the populated valleys of Equestria—moisture gathered coldly, loftily. Moist winds from the neighboring sea produced thick gray clouds that hung through the troposphere in layers, with each ascending ceiling far colder and duller than the last. Nighttime—oddly enough—was a painterly blessing against such perpetual malaise.

There was still a scant kiss of daylight left, which is what captured Clippy's curiosity, for there hovered a thick line of clouds far darker than they needed to be for that time in the afternoon. He paused in mid-drink, squinting at the eastern cloud bands. Sure enough, a solid line of blackness shifted slowly across the misty ceiling. As his eyes adjusted to the sight, he found a focal point to the phenomenon.

Something was casting a shadow. At first he thought it was a flock of geese—but even they wouldn't cast a shadow that prominent at such a distance. His next thought was that it was an errant rain cloud drifting westward from an oceanic gale. Soon, however, Clippy's heart had skipped a beat—for it was none of those things whatsoever. In the beams of the setting sun, something had glinted—bright and gold. Flying metal situated that high could only mean one thing.

An airship.

And as Clippy's eyes expertly studied the limp, sideways drift of the thing, he came to an experienced conclusion.

It was a derelict.

This was a motherlode. And his gaze was the first to grace it. Now was the time to capitalize even more.

Quick as a wind gust, Clippy pocketed his canteen away, tightened his saddlebags, and kicked upwards from his perch. His wings spread, and he flew higher and higher at a rapid pace. He did not fly straight for the airship. In case his assumption was wrong—and ponies were still manning the craft—then his approach might startle them. It was better he fly towards it from above, where the vessel's balloon would act as a blind spot. Plus, there was another reason to ascend as rapidly as he did.

Clippy touched the overcast ceiling. Once there, he grabbed a clump of cloudy mists with all four limbs. His wings flapped in reverse—like a backstroking swimmer—and he descended the way he came. Once his body was caught in the exposed rays of the setting sun, he dislodged himself from the body-ful of clouds he had caught. Then, with expert wings and hooves, he sculpted three “glyphs” out of the cloudy material. These he bucked into the sunlight and drifted back... looking towards the western horizon. In mid-glide, he took a monstrous breath... then let loose one long shriek—melodic and loud—that echoed along the lower bands of overcast.

A half-minute passed as Clippy waited for the sound to carry over to his friends. Sure enough, their cloud-carving flight paused, and he saw them hovering in place—their necks craned as they studied his smoke signals from afar. Each glyph he produced had given a simple message—one known to all pegasi since flight school: “East.” “Fly.” “Searching.”

Another thirty seconds, and one of his friends flew up, scooped a wad of clouds, and came back down in time to kick a return signal into the sunlight: “Affirmative.” With that issued, the pegasi continued looting the tallest mountain for its heirlooms.

Clippy Breeze bit his smiling lips with bubbling glee. His gamble had worked; they had seen his message but not his prize. With a flutter of his feathers, he kicked the wind and dashed eastward, scaling higher and higher so that the derelict skycraft would soon be lying in his meager shadow.

Within minutes, the stallion had come within a stone's throw of the vagrant craft. Upon closer inspection, he was surprised at how... pristine the vessel appeared. There was no sign of damage. The hull was largely clean and untarnished. For as long as the aircraft had been exposed to the elements, the elements had been kind to it.

And yet it drifted limply, strafing ever so listlessly starboard, with the prow aimed in a lazy angle towards the heavens above. From bow to stern, the craft was about twenty meters in length—an escort vessel by Equestrian aeronautical standards. It was perfect for long-range voyages, and it wasn't strange for an airship like this to stay aloft for years on the magically-imbued gases contained within its balloon.

Clippy's initial guess was that the craft had been tethered to a cruiser—but then subsequently lost in a heavy storm. Or perhaps something worse—like a pirate attack. Granted, none of these hypotheses clicked with the veritable lack of structural damage found on the craft, but a ship this immaculate was far too substantial (and embarrassing) of a monetary loss to have feasibly been abandoned for any other reason.

There was only one way to find out for sure. Angling his wings, Clippy Breeze descended sharply towards the vessel. With unabashed grace, he landed on the prow. A shiver instantly ran through his petite pony body—for the gold-laced bow was ice cold to the touch. This thing had been adrift for a long, long time.

In the glint of the setting sun, a series of platinum engravings caught his eye. He looked towards the port side and saw the vessel's name emblazoned in Equestrian Basic:




The Bird Feeder




The name was too coy and diminutive to belong to a Cloudsdalian commissioned vessel. Clippy guessed this thing was built by unicorns in Canterlot. Or perhaps Trottingham.

The very prow he was perched on sliced a swath in the sunlight, draping the upper deck in dense shadow. There was no sign of any hooves on board, but a pegasus like Clippy knew better than to blindly assume.

“Hello?!” he called out. The cold winds carried his voice further, cascading it across every wooden floorboard and metal plate of the craft.

There was no response. Only the groan and creak of the drifting ship's taut superstructure.

“Hello?!?” Clippy tried once more. Despite the earnestness in his voice, he very deeply hoped that the ship was indeed abandoned. Equestrian Salvaging Laws would work against him otherwise.

Yet again, the air was full of nothing but whistling winds and softly flexing ropes. The bands that held the balloon to the gondola of the airship were as tight as ever, and well-maintained. It was as if the crew had done their task with loyal hooves... before inexplicably abandoning the vessel yesterday.

A slight flutter of unease wafted through Clippy's tummy. He tongued the inside of his muzzle, then turned to look west. Towards the light. Towards his friends. His wings flexed with the thought of potentially sharing this potential bounty after all...

...when a glitter of shiny light bedazzled the stallion through his peripheral vision. Instantly, he threw his gaze at the upper deck of the Bird Feeder. What he saw took his breath away. The vessel had drifted into a pocket of light afforded by a hole in the clouds, and it revealed a clutter of reflective gold and silver spilled out across the floor. There was a half-empty satchel caught on the edge of a metal grate, and its contents were exposed: antiquities from Equestrian epochs that Clippy had never witnessed before.

“Whoah...” With a single push, he glided off the prow and landed on the naked deck of the ship. He stood over the spilled loot, his jaw dropped in awe. “...no friggin' way!” As the light from above spread, he became aware of another bag of goods—spilled out against a wooden supply crate. There were tokens of war—Hippogriff design—that were far older and more valuable than any old rusted griffon blade found on the side of a mountain. “Please... somepony... anypony...” He grinned stupidly to himself as he trotted over towards the loot. “...I need to know that I'm not dreaming.”

He reached forward, his fetlock hovering just above the handle of an immaculately-preserved Hippogriff spear. Then, as he held his breath, he pushed down until he felt the decidedly real kiss of the real metal.

“Ha! Ha hah! I'm not dreaming!” Clippy Breeze did a little dance of joy in place. “Cha-CHING! We hit the jackpot, brothers and sisters!” He swiveled west and stuck his tongue out at the familiar shadows scraping uselessly against a mountain. “Who's a pain in who's flank now, huh?! Slackers! You snooze—you lose, melon bucks!”

With a pronounced slap, he slammed his saddlebags onto the deck, opened them in a flurry, and began scooping in all the gold treasures and metal loot he could get his shivering hooves on.

“That's mine! And that's mine! And that is most definitely mine!” Clippy's grin grew wider and wider as he fattened his satchel to the bursting point. “'Clippy, you should be studying law! It's tradition!' Blpblpblp! Feathers to you, Dad. I'm gonna buy me a marefriend and then buy her fifty marefriends and then we're gonna gather all my illegal-perching-violation tickets into one big-flank pile and roll in them!” As he said this, another glittery shine lit his eyes and he gasped at another satchel of spilled goods lying further along the deck. “Oh sweet juice boxes!” he spat. “Are those minotaurian rupees?” He scrambled closer, squealing with pent-up joy. “They are! They are!” He scooped as many of the precious stones into what remained of his bag space. “So help me—This will buy me my very own cloud bed in Las Pegasus for sure—”

So engrossed was Clippy in his euphoria that he failed to notice a downdraft of cold air billowing into the body of the ship. The vessel pivoted sharply, rising and falling in rapid succession. Nevertheless, his nimble pegasus reflexes compensated, and Clippy kicked off the careening deck before landing back down in an agile slide. No sooner had he gathered his bearings that he heard a loud clatter immediately behind him. The rocking of the ship had flung the door to the cabin wide open; the panel must have been loose on its hinges. A gust of cold air rolled over Clippy's body, making his coat hair stand on end. He hugged his bulging bag of things, feeling his teeth chatter from the nippy sensation.

If—perhaps—this ship was indeed recently-abandoned, then it was sheer luck that allowed Clippy Breeze to land on it while it was still in one piece. At this rate—untethered and tossed to the winds—a vessel of that size could easily slam into any of the jutting mountain peaks of that area. It was quite likely the right time—then—for Clippy to count his blessings and take off with what he had pilfered.

After all, if he was quick and stealthy enough, it's quite possible he could make a return trip to the Bird Feeder with even more bags. It would be past nightfall, however, so he would have to do the second salvage by moonlight. It sounded like a rewarding challenge, and Clippy smiled at the idea of even more cream being added to his unexpected crop.

There was just the question of whether or not to share the bounty with his friends. This occupied his thoughts as he cinched the saddlebags shut and heaved the savage weight onto his flank—

“... … ...hello?”

Clippy Breeze froze in place—but not from the chill. He stared forward into the overcast clouds like an escaped prisoner under a spotlight.

One ear twitched... and then the other.

All was winds and creaking.

Until it repeated:

“... … … … … ...hello...?”

Clippy blinked. He turned around towards the source of the small, timid voice... and he froze yet again when he found it to be the dark hollow of the cabin's open doorframe.

The entrance to the airship's lower hold yawned before Clippy at a crooked angle—a perfect rectangular blackness devoid of any life... until that very same life announced itself for the third time:

“Somepony... anypony...”

Clippy's lips pursed. All traces of greed and avarice left him in a flurry, replaced instead by good ol' fashion Equestrian concern and empathy.

“Who's there?” He spoke in a soft tone, as if addressing a young foal. He remembered his two kid brothers from back in Cloudsdale—and his mind buckled from the sheer thought of them sounding nearly as scared and alone. “Are... is everything okay?”

The air was silent yet again. A part of Clippy hoped it would remain that way.

Then that same part of him sank upon hearing a response from the blackness within.

“I... need... help...”

Clippy gulped, trotting forward to lean against the doorframe. “Hey! Kid! It's gonna be alright! I'm just your regular friendly pegasus! You... uh...” He squinted into the shadows. “...can you tell me where you are? I can't see you...”

“I'm... in...”

“Yeah?” Clippy craned his neck. “Where?”

“... … ...pain.”

The stallion blinked.

“I'm... in... pain... please... somepony... anypony... help... me...”

Clippy chewed on his bottom lip. “He's delirious.” He turned to look west again. The light was fading. A sliver of diluted gold betwixt all the gray. “...I'm delirious.” Breath tight, he looked into the dark hold once again. He inhaled. He fumed. “... … … buck it.”

He slapped his heavy satchel down, leaning it against the inner doorframe. Reaching towards the other side of his flank, Clippy unhooked a black cylinder covered all over in an opaque black fabric. He untied the bottom of the veil and unraveled it completely, revealing a dull glass lantern filled with dormant insects. The pegasus gave the canister a shake. When nothing happened, he slapped it a few times. At long last, the lightning bugs awoke, flittering all about inside the glass container. Their bulbous abdomens refracted light outward in all angles, illuminating wooden floorboards and a lush velvet carpet within the cabin.

“Hang tight, kiddo!” Clippy Breeze announced as he boldly trotted into the hold. He shuffled cautiously forward on three limbs, using his front right leg to hold the lantern high. “Everything's going to be alright!” He swung the lantern left, illuminating a captain's desk covered with maps, parchment, and a dusty globe. “I'm gonna get you out of here!” He swung the light right, revealing an unmade cot and shelves full of navigational books. “Then my friends and I are going to get you somewhere safe! Okay?”

“... … ...okay...”

Clippy sniffled, his muzzle wrinkling from a musky odor—like an abandoned library built atop an abandoned sewer deep inside an abandoned city. This place was full of dust and soot—a sharp contrast to the pristine condition of the deck outside. As he shone the lantern-light around, he saw wine bottles, food crates, aeronautical equipment containers—but no foal in distress.

“Care to help me, kid?” Clippy echoed into the claustrophobic walls of the cabin. The further he went, the narrower the wall panels drew inward, as if coming towards a singular focal point towards the ship's stern. “Say something! Sound off so I can find you!”

“Please... can... you... find... me...?” The response was so immediate that it startled Clippy. It came from a point past the captain's table—the darkest point of the room.

“Kid?” Clippy shone the light towards it. He saw a closet door. “Are you in there?”

“I'm... in... there...”

“Just hold tight!” Clippy quickened his steps, galloping on three legs as he held his lantern high. “I'll get you out of there!”

“Get... me... out... please...”

“Just... just give me a sec!” Clippy fumbled and fussed with the door. He ultimately resorted to gripping the handle with his wingfeathers. After giving the thing a twist or two, he finally yanked it open... and was immediately greeted with an unnatural gust of warm, moist air. “Guh...!” His teeth grit as he fought the urge to vomit. The air smelled like rust and methane. “...what in Tartarus' name is going on in there, kid?” he stammered, seeing nothing but darkness within the closet.

“I'm... in... pain...”

“Why?” Clippy stammered. “What happened?” He held the lantern straight forward. “Could you show me where—?”

Something protruded from every inch of the closet's doorframe... something razor sharp and pale. Like teeth. No sooner had Clippy registered this than the closet entrance slammed shut over his outstretched body. When it reopened in a crimson splash, his lantern was gone. So was his hoof.

He was already screaming before he felt the agonizing pain. The shocked pegasus fell on his flank, clutching his right stub—the fountaining remnant of what once belonged to him. A puff of light issued forth from the carnivorous darkness. Somehow, Clippy found the urge to look forward.

The lantern had shattered, and its former occupants were flittering in all directions. The lightning bugs cast pinprick halos of light against the interior of the “closet,” revealing viscera, sinew, and throbbing abdominal muscles. Then—with eyes glazed white in eternal horror—Clippy saw a sea of shrunken pony faces lining the intestinal wall, and their mouths were moving with the same voice that drew him in.

“Please...”

“...somepony...”

“...anypony...”

Whimpering, Clippy Breeze spun around and scrambled against the bloodied floor on three legs.

“...just...”

“...hold...”

“...tight...”

“...kiddo...”

Clippy Breeze stumbled more than once. Hyperventilating, he flung his wings out and kicked off the floor with his rear legs. He glided close to the ceiling—and that's when two wooden panels hinged loose with animated malice, crushing a froth of passing feathers in a singular clap.

“Aaaaugh!” he fell like a sack of meat to the floor of the cabin. His right wing was a crooked, bleeding mess of bone. The smell of methane increased, along with a humid wetness that permeated every square inch of the room.

“Oh...”

“...sweet...”

“...juice boxes...”

“Gnnngh!” He pulled himself up and limped desperately forward, his eyes locked on the bright rectangle of gray overcast lingering at the apex of the cabin's throat.

“No...”

"...friggin'..."

“...way...”

The entire ship groaned. That rectangle of salvation turned darker as the entire vessel pivoted upwards at a steep angle. Clippy was fighting gravity now, clasping and clamoring at the carpet and floorboards as he fumbled for the exit.

“Mrnnngh—Help!” he finally hollered towards the elusive light beyond. In his mind, Clippy's friends were still swimming silly circles against the setting sun. Even beyond, a warm bed in Cloudsdale waited, drifting further and further away. “Somepony help me!”

“Not...”

“...dreaming.”

It was a chorus now.

“Help!” Clippy slipped. He clasped on with one struggling fetlock. “Celestia! Luna! Please help—”

There was a glitter of light. Clippy gasped—thinking it was the shadow of wingmates coming to help. Lightning bugs flitted past him, and he realized it was just his bag of looted treasures spilling all over the cabin floor—pelting his skull and withers and chest and finally his fetlock as they slid into him.

And now he was sliding too, straight into the wet, heated song.

“Not... dreaming...”

“No! Goddess—!”

“Not... dreaming...”

“I don't—!”

His voice box was cut loose from his lungs. A few bites later, his skull also sank into the belly of the maw. And when the teeth had accomplished its task, and the blood had rolled into the deepest, tightest crevices of the cabin, the closet door slowly swung shut.

Followed by silence.

And then not-silence... in a feeble whimper that resembled the voice of a stallion who once scavenged the skies with a smile.

“Pain.”





Somewhere, high in the skies of Equestria, a derelict airship drifted. Alone.

It should have remained that way.

Instead, it righted itself from a sharp-angled tilt.

Flying even once again, the airship pointed itself westward... towards where a flock of pegasi searched the remnants of a forgotten war fought by forgotten souls.

Then—with unseen purpose—the ship drifted stealthily into a cloudbank. A few panels along its port-side lifted on their own accord, bashing and breaking the mists until they produced sigils in the air. These smoke signals floated high—and swiftly—kissing the last sliver of daylight. They produced three words—a request.

Soon enough, the pegasi saw it. And they abandoned what they were doing, gliding eastward towards the vessel.

The vessel pivoted itself slightly starboard, resorting to a lazy drift. Its port-side panels slid back into place, quiet and patient, brandishing nothing but a name.
> Part 4
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And that's why you should steer clear of the mountains tonight, because sometimes there's more to an object that meets the eye.", vlad said, "in fact, this also concerns you sir." He was eyeing a pony who's known for his attitude.

"Now look here buster." He said, "I don't know what your trying to pull, but I've got an auction to get to, and I don't want to miss it."

"Actually I think you might want to hear this tale, maybe after hearing it, you'll change your mind about the auction."

The pony sighed and said "alright, but make it snappy."
> The Cemetery Gallows
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Mr. Fetlock, an elderly art house regular and notorious crank, walked the streets of Canterlot with his trademark limp. His goal was the Canterlot Event Center, which he frequented for the purposes of buying art at auction. Being a regular who was known for spending large amounts at these events, he was given the VIP treatment despite the fact that his attitude left much to be desired. The entrance attendant of the event center saw him coming and held the door for him as he approached.

“Mr. Fetlock, a pleasure as always.” The stallion greeted, his reward for his courtesy being only an acknowledging grunt.

Fetlock traveled to the main hall where the seats were slowly beginning to fill for the day’s auction. Even though a public setting, he had particular seat he preferred and all the other regulars knew not to take that seat for fear of his anger. He sat and kept his eyes on the stage until the event was ready to start. The casual murmur of the patrons ceased as a tuxedoed stallion walked onto the stage to take the microphone.

“Good afternoon.” He gestured grandly. “My name is Fast Talker; I will be your auctioneer this fine day. As always, we have a unique selection of pieces to satisfy all of your tastes so let us get underway." Fetlock found little interest in the first three pieces; he preferred paintings and the statuette, vase and grandfather clock were of no concern to him. The fourth piece though, caught his attention as Fast Talker introduced it to the crowd. “This next piece is quite the interesting work.” His assistant brought a painting out and set it to the display easel. Mixed reactions followed its reveal as the work of art depicted a dark hill in the background that was partly illuminated by a full moon; the hill was lined with gravestones that rested in sporadic formation. Even more unnerving was the tree that loomed in the foreground, stark and devoid of greenery with a single long branch that had a noose hanging from its thickest portion. The frayed rope was in center frame and seemed to sway as it was beheld by the eye. “This, my good ponies, is known as The Cemetery Gallows.” Fast Talker observed the work. “Not your typical piece to be certain and with an added bonus it comes with its own sordid history.” He returned his gaze to the patrons. “Tales suggest that this painting has passed through many hooves, all of which are… no longer with us.” He emphasized with chilling tone; laughing at the guests' shaken response. “But we know that such stories are nonsense.” He strode back over to the painting. “That being said, which of you will be brave enough to take this work home?” The bidding started and Fast Talker’s salesmanship spurred the buyers into an intense bidding war. As the back and forth continued the price reached seven hundred and fifty bits. It was at this point when Fetlock raised his hoof.

“Two thousand bits.” He smiled as the outrageous bid silenced his fellow buyers.

Fast Talker nodded towards the old stallion. “We have a bid of two thousand by Mr. Fetlock, do I hear any counter bids?” Mumbling followed but nopony dared to compete with Fetlock’s wealth. “Going once… twice… and sold for two thousand bits. Thank you, Mr. Fetlock.”

The remainder of the auction passed in usual fashion. At the event’s end, Fetlock formally claimed his latest acquisition with a promise that it would be delivered to him by the end of the day. Fetlock returned to his home which sat isolated on a plot of land just beyond Canterlot. The long trip always tired him and as soon as he was home he took to his favorite chair and rested. Unwittingly nodding off, he woke to the sound of knocking at the front door. As he opened the door he was met with a young delivery mare with a wrapped frame resting on her side.

“I have a delivery for a Mr. Fetlock.”

“Obviously.” Fetlock grumbled as he signed for the delivery.

“Thank you, have a good…” The door closed before she could finish.

Fetlock took the painting into the dining room and sat it on the table. Undoing the tie, he pulled the paper off and looked over the work with a smile. The main hall of his home was reminiscent of an art gallery; built extra wide, the parallel walls were lined with dozens of paintings that he had collected over the years. Taking his latest prize to the nearest empty space, he proudly hung it and took a step back to ensure that it was straight. As with his other works of art he stood there for some time, etching every detail of the painting into his mind as he marveled at whatever expert stroke brought the scene to life. His gaze was broken by the growling of his stomach and he headed for the kitchen to prepare dinner.

In the wee hours of the morning, Fetlock bolted upright at the sound of a massive thud. His old heart beating wildly, he climbed out of bed and looked to his bedroom door. Standing motionless, no further noise came so he went out into the hallway and cautiously looked in both directions only to see nothing. As he started to calm, a second thud echoed through the corridor. Living in constant fear of burglars who might help themselves to his expensive collection, he boldly went downstairs to check the lower level.

“Who’s there?!” He called into the dark. “Don’t underestimate me just because I’m old! You think you can take advantage of me!” He bellowed as he stormed through his home. No response came and the loud noise did not repeat a third time. Turning on the lights, Fetlock hurried to his hallway of art and found no trace of any intruder. Everything seemed normal until he saw that the painting at the end was crooked on the wall. Investigating, he found his latest purchase askew and immediately fixed it. As Fetlock straightened the picture he caught site of his reflection in the protective glass of the frame, noticing that his face sat neatly within the confines of the noose. As he stepped away he glanced back as something else caught his eye, looking back at the painting he discovered a black smudge resting on the hill that he was sure was not there earlier in the day. He stared at it for nearly a minute before concluding that it was merely a fleck of paint that the artist mistakenly left behind. As his heart rate finally slowed to normal, he returned to his room to try and get back to sleep.

Fetlock awoke feeling as if he had not slept a wink, pulling himself out of bed he endured his morning routine before going downstairs. He double checked his home, still finding nothing of note to explain the prior night. After breakfast, he passed through the main hall to leave for the day, stopping shortly as he noticed the painting at the end tilted once more. With an upset huff he hurried over and fixed it again. Despite all the imagery the work entailed, his eyes automatically focused in on the imperfection he observed last night. A confused grumble passed his lips as he swore it had doubled in size; on top of that the once shapeless blot seemed to have slimmed out and developed a pair of points at its apex. Fetlock’s old mind struggled with what he saw but he forced the rationale that he merely misjudged the size of the imperfection in the limited light. He continued on and left his home in an attempt to enjoy the day and forget about all the bizarreness. Fetlock partook of his usual activities within the city but the back of his mind was weighed down with an uneasiness that he could not shake. It followed him all morning and afternoon, hindering what little pleasure he found in his daily life. Between the unrestful night and the distracted day he chose to pay a carriage to take him home. He managed to doze off during the ride, only waking at the sound of the carriage’s bell as it stopped in front of his house. Without a tip, he dismissed the operator and went inside. He stood in the foyer, despite his want to merely go to bed something nagged at him to check the painting. A slight fear ran through him as he returned to the main hall. As he stepped into the long passage he felt his heart race as he saw that once again, the painting was tilted.

“Is somepony here?!” He quickly turned and shouted, his angry voice bouncing off the walls. “Come out this instant!” In lieu of not having any means to defend himself, he desperately wanted somepony to make themselves known; a burglar, a couple of colts pulling a prank, anything but the silence that inevitably followed his command. He hobbled down the hall and fixed the painting again, his eyes widening as he beheld the haunting imperfection. Now he was certain it had gotten bigger, not only that but it seemed to be making its way into the foreground. A strong sense of dread filled him as he began to realize that the black mass was molding itself into something more recognizable. The bottom of the marking had split in two and the top had rounded off, with the two points having flattened into more of a cone shape. With a heated growl he pulled the painting from the wall and carried it into the dining room, slamming it down on the table. He loosened the frame and removed the glass, immediately running his hoof across the canvas. The paint was as dry as a bone, proving that it had not been subjected to tampering. As he stared down in a mixture of confusion, anger and fright, another loud thud reverberated through his house. With a startled scream he frantically looked back towards the front door, positive that that’s where the sound originated. He rushed to his living room window and drew back the curtain, looking out into the darkening afternoon. The front porch was clear and there was nopony in the immediate yard. A sharp gasp left him though as when he looked to the hill in the distance, he saw a loitering form that was all too familiar to him. It was a mirror image of what he had just seen within the painting, it did not move, remaining as still as its artistic counterpart. Fetlock pulled the curtain closed and sat on the couch, taking several deep breaths to calm himself. “This is ridiculous.” He scoffed. “I’ve got myself so worked up I’m seeing things.” He stood and pulled the curtain back again, as suspected the thing was gone. “There, I’m just overtired.” He closed the curtain and headed upstairs, forgoing dinner in hopes of getting some needed rest.

Yet another thud, one that put the past ones to shame, rocked Fetlock’s home with such ferocity that the walls themselves shook. Shooting up in bed with a terrified cry, Fetlock braced his hooves on the mattress and looked about the room. His bravado was quickly fading under the tireless assault to his senses. He made his way downstairs and looking out the window saw that it was the middle of the night. His heart was all but breaching his chest and even though he struggled not to, he went to check the painting. It sat on the dining room table where he left it and as he spun it around to take a look a deep chill filled his old bones. He could no longer call what he saw a mere blemish of paint, it was without question a pony. The split at the bottom had formed into forelegs and the rounded top had become a fully realized head, with the two cones now recognizable as a pair of ears. This was no ordinary pony though, the left foreleg was raised as if it was taking a step, but the leg was hanging in an unnatural state. From the knee down, the appendage was held on by nothing but a sparse combination of exposed bone and tendons. It had no eyes, the sockets like bottomless pits that even without the required organs seemed to be staring at him with malicious intent. Fright overtook him and Fetlock ripped the painting in half and threw it on the ground. As soon as the torn canvas touched his floor, another immense thud boomed throughout the house. It was so loud that Fetlock was forced to cover his ears in reflex. As before, the front door seemed to be the epicenter of the noise. He went to the window and ripped open the curtains; his mouth fell open as he gazed out at the hill, the full moon illuminating the grotesque form from the painting.

“No!” He cried out as he stumbled back from the window. Another thud rattled his house down to the very foundation. Fetlock’s whole body shook with a level of terror that he had never experienced in his long life. He scrambled back into the dining room and turned on the lights, hoping the illumination would keep whatever was outside at bay. His wandering gaze fell once again on the painting, in shock he quickly scooped up the right half of the work; his now fragile heart sinking in his chest at what he saw. The pony was now fully in the foreground and seemed to bear down on him. He could clearly make out the face, a rotted mess of bone and muscle tissue barely covered by tattered flesh. The hideous thing smiled at him, what teeth it had left as staggered as the graves in the background. A final thud boomed all around him, he dropped the canvas and turned back to the door; only to find himself face to face with the nightmarish pony from the painting. Fetlock screamed for all his lungs were worth and collapsed to the floor.

It took two days for Fetlock to be discovered. The mare who delivered his weekly grocery order summoning the guards at the city gate to investigate after receiving no response from twenty minutes of knocking. The poor girl made the mistake of following the guards in as they were assaulted by the stench of rotting flesh. They found the elderly stallion dead on the dining room floor. His entire face was twisted in fear, eyes unnaturally wide and mouth agape. The mare screamed and ran from the home while the guards searched for evidence of foul play. They found no signs of an intruder or a break in; and the only item in the home appearing to be out of place was an eerie painting of a cemetery laying on the dining room table.

Epilogue

In the storeroom of the Canterlot Event Center, Fast Talker and his two assistants were unpacking and inspecting the latest shipment of items to be sold at auction. As they worked, Fast Talker hefted a frame bound in brown paper; he unwrapped it and observed the painting with a sigh.

“Hey.” One of his assistants looked over his shoulder. “Didn’t we just move that one?”

“Yes.” Fast Talker nodded. “It was bought by the famous, or infamous depending on who you ask, Mr. Fetlock. He passed away last week.”

“Oh, how sad to hear.” The mare said regretfully.

“It isn’t sad.” The second assistant cut in. “We were warned about that painting… we should never have allowed it to reach the stage.”

“Oh stop it!” Fast Talker looked back at him judgingly. “It was an unfortunate coincidence… nothing to do with some mumbo jumbo.” He huffed. “Stories like that always come up every time the stars align and some kind of accident happens. A lot of older ponies by art, a few of them pass while holding onto the same piece and everypony jumps to wild conclusions.” He set the painting down. “Here, just give it a once over and prep it for next month’s auction.”

“Yes sir.” The mare took his place before the painting. “Ugh, just as creepy as the last time I saw it.” She looked over the macabre scene with a shiver; and while she had seen the painting before, her untrained eyes were unable to detect the one extra grave in the yard.
> Part 5
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So you see, if you go to today's auction, you'll learn the hard way that there's more that meets the eye of the beholder."

Mr. Fetlock was unamused by the story, "that's a bunch of poppycock, I bet you're making this stuff up just so you get your hands on our fortune, well your not fooling me."

"Alright, I warned you, now what about you two.", he was looking a pony and a strange looking creature that a pony named Lyra called 'humans', "what are your plans."

"Well, we were going to check out this house in our hometown, see what can take." The pony said.

"Yeah, I don't think you want to do that..."
> Home by the sea
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dirty Deeds and Tim were sitting outside the pub, side by side, eyeing the house on the cliff that overlooked the tiny little podunk town in which they happened to find themselves.

Nag-on-Sea was not the most exciting place around. Indeed, it was likely in the running for one of the least exciting. Just another seasalt-pickled collection of buildings by the coast, clinging on through the years more as a result of the stubbornness of its residents than anyone actually enjoying being there.

Sure, the sea views were nice, but there were nicer places to get them.

Not that Tim or Dirty Deeds were concerned. It being quiet was kind of the point. Quiet meant that there would be less reason for someone to come and try to find them. Which someone might, given that the heat from their last escapade had not yet fully died down.

Dirty Deeds and Tim being rapscallions of the highest order, you see, and ones who were also not above taking on a little work even while they were supposed to be lying low.

Hence eyeing the house on the cliff. A local fixture that was difficult to miss, and which Dirty Deeds had been digging up some information on, being as how she was closer to the brains of the pair, with Tim being the fingerman. Because he had fingers

“So you’re saying it’s a holiday home?” He said, sipping on his pint and wincing, suddenly convinced they used brine in whatever local brew this was. Dirty Deeds nodded eagerly. From what she’d learnt she was already feeling good about their prospects.

“That’s what my guy told me, yeah. Holiday home. Owners’ not here basically all year round for years on end, place’ll be empty,” she said, rubbing her hooves together. Tim raised an eyebrow.

“Hopefully not empty,” he said.

Would kind of defeat the point of breaking and entering.

Dirty Deeds punched him in the leg.

“You know what I mean. Deserted. We can just go in and have the run of the place,” she said while he rubbed his thigh and winced.

“Nothing like a leisurely burgle,” Tim said, his thigh-rubbing hand moving up to stroke his chin.

“I know, right? We can take our time, really find the good bits and this means that we’re not just spinning our wheels here! We’re still working! It’s perfect,” Dirty said, finally taking a sip of her own drink and - from the look on her face - reaching much the same conclusions as to its ingredients as Tim had done. Putting her glass back onto the table she delicately but firmly pushed it away from her.

Tim reached out and gave her mane a ruffle.

“You do find the best leads,” he said, withdrawing sharply as, with a growl, Dirty snapped after his fingers.

“I’ll bite your fucking hand off, I’m not a pet,” she snarled. Tim just grinned. He’d known the risks, and he did enjoy how she’d picked up human swearing from hanging around with him. He’d always known he was a good influence.

The plan they then struck was a simple one. They would wait until it was dark, sneak up to the house, break into the house, steal valuable things from the house and then leave the house. Both of them agreed this was a marvellous plan and, with that, waited for sunset.

Once things had reached an acceptable level of gloomy the pair of them - wearing their bandit hats - headed on up the cliff, making sure to circle around to come from a side that no-one from town would have been able to see. Not their first time at the rodeo.

Creeping up the blindside, chinning up the wall. Tim held up Dirty to have a peek through a window or two and it was eventually settled on that going through the backdoor would be the best idea and so Tim got to work on the lock. Some fiddling later and they were both in. Easy as anything.

Inside all was quiet, which was always reassuring. With Dirty leading the way - she had a yen for knowing where one should put one’s foot or hoof so as to move in total silence - and Tim following behind they went into the first room and got to work, no time wasted.

Dirty Deeds and Tim both had the keen and practised eye of the experienced house-breaker, both of them zeroing in at once on stuff that was self-evidently valuable and also on the stuff where they just-so happened to know a guy who knew a guy who’d heard of a guy who would be able to shift it.

Picking up the pieces, putting them away, all of it easy enough.

Something didn’t feel quite right. Something tickled at Tim’s sixth-burglar sense.

He was about to give voice to it when a noise from upstairs meant that he didn’t have to. Not the regular creaking of a house at night but the unmistakable creak of something with weight moving around.

Something like a homeowner.

Both burglars froze. Then, slowly, turned about to look one another in the eye.

“I thought you said no-one was living here?” Tim hissed. Despite having been as quiet as he could Dirty clearly felt he hadn’t been quiet enough and promptly yanked him down to her level by the collar so she could shush him better.

“No-one is living here!” She said in hushed tones, followed by another groaning of the floorboards from upstairs. Good timing on that groan. “Okay, well, it might just be the one old guy but that’s as good as no-one living here! What does it matter?”

That seemed like kind of an important detail to gloss over. Tim glared, glanced up briefly and then glared at the pony even harder, just to get his point across.

“It matters if we get caught!”

“He’s old! If it’s even him! They just said they sometimes see someone moving around! It’s probably nothing! Just be quiet!”

A very tense moment of silence wherein which both criminals furiously thought about what the next most-prudent course of action should be. The nature of their partnership was that both of them considered themselves to be the leader.

“I’m gonna go check,” Dirty said, beating Tim to the punch by slivers of a second. Though Tim’s suggestion was going to have been to grab anything within reach and run. Going and checking seemed a reasonable enough idea to him, especially as it wouldn’t be him doing it.

“Good plan, good luck,” he said, giving her a thumbs up.

Giving him a nod she slunk from the room and moving with admirable and total silence went up the stairs and out of sight. Tim, for his part, perched on the edge of a sofa and waited, feeling tense.

Time passed. Tension mounted. If Tim had had a watch he would have checked it. Instead he just looked through a window. This told him nothing.

Eventually - after what he arbitrarily judged to be a long enough time to be concerned - it became too much. Moving back out to the foot of the stairs he bobbed on his heels, considered whether it was worth it or not and then cupped a hand to his mouth:

“Hey. Hey Dirty. Hey!” He hissed. No response. The house was quiet, or at least mostly quiet. It was still creaking every now and then. Was that the wind? Tim supposed it was quite windy here down by the coast.

Hadn’t been that windy today though. Had it? Maybe it had changed.

“Dirty?” He tried again. Still nothing.

How hard was it to go upstairs and see if there was someone else there?

Going up and checking would be risky. Hell, trying to call up the stairs was risky enough, actually going himself would just be asking for trouble - human weight on pony stairs in an old house not being a solid recipe for stealth in Tim’s experience.

So he was reduced to twiddling his thumbs, trusting to Dirty’s experience and expertise.

Although, if she didn’t come back in, say, ten minutes then he’d just call it quits. She’d understand.

And so he was back on that sofa. Waiting. Looking around the room.

It really was alarmingly dark inside this house. Unsurprising given that it was nighttime and all and nothing out of the ordinary, but still. Tim hadn’t quite fully appreciated until just that moment how smothering the darkness was. The window and the starry night beyond didn’t seem to be doing anything at all.

And out of the darkness he suddenly heard:

“Welcome to the home by the sea.”

Leaping into the air as though someone had shoved a jumper cable up his arse Tim spun on the spot and braced himself to come face-to-face with the owner of the place, probably holding Dirty by the scruff of the neck, probably not looking very happy about having received visitors.

But no, nothing, no-one. Just more darkness.

More, more darkness. That took TIm a few heart-pounding moments to grasp. The room had not got darker, there was just more darkness in it, and individual chunks of darkness, too. Shadows, he supposed. Discrete shadows moving about and within the greater blackness of the room.

And getting closer.

It was difficult to see - obviously - but the movement still caught his eye. A flicker here and there of something deeper and blacker sliding out from beneath furniture or slipping from between cracks in the woodwork, leaking in through the door that Dirty had left open behind her, pushing from above and below, all moving across the room in his direction, all converging on where he was stood.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen.

“Dirty? Dirty!” He made to call out, but the words only croaked past his lips and the sound went nowhere. Shaking from head to toe Tim stumbled backwards, nearly tripping over an end table and falling arse-first onto a chair that just-so happened to be behind him. It hadn’t been there before.

The movement of the shadows surrounded him now, circling him, round and down and sideways. Some, he saw, looked to be pony-shaped. At least one or two were person shaped, though it was hard to tell - they wouldn’t stop moving and they were, well, shadows. They didn’t really have enough substance for him ot be sure.

Swallowing, his throat now painfully dry, he made to speak again and made to try and stand up and sprint from the room but he found his shaky legs too weak beneath him to rise.

“Sit down,” came the same voice as from before, coming from somewhere just to the edge of where he might have been able to see who’d spoken.

Were he in a better mood he might have pointed out that he was already sitting down, but the thought didn’t really occur to him then and there. All he could do was stay planted in that chair, frozen rigid with fright, eyes locked to a swirling band of dark that, he noticed with mounting discomforting, had eyes that had locked onto him, too.

And they started talking, for a given value of ‘talking’. There weren’t distinct words as such, more impressions. Hints. Shadows, it transpired, lacked the substance to speak for any extended period of time but could quite easily convey enough bits and pieces for Tim so that he could fill in the blanks himself.

Images of sorrow, pictures of delight, things that go to make up a life.

The ghosts - for they were ghosts, not shadows he realised - yearned for the lives they’d had, once, and saw in Tim a chance to relive them, if only briefly. A chance to retell their stories and so for some blissful moment remember that they too had lived, once. All Tim had to do was sit there and listen. All Tim could do was sit there and listen.

There was no order in how it happened. Often, the eager spirits would overlap and muddle whatever it was Tim was being told. Sometimes they would all seem to go quiet and Tim thought that it might have been over, but it was only ever a pause - another would always start not long after. Over and over, on and on it went.

Tim felt the weight of years of silence and tedium and isolation pressing down on him with every story told. These were stories that had lived in this house for years with nowhere to go and no-one to listen to them, until him. Stories that had been desperate to be told, so their owners might even for a second remember what it had been like to be alive.

Bliss, to retell the stories. To live again, if only a little bit. To forget even for the merest moment their circumstances. To dream of a time when they were free, so many years ago, before the time when they had heard ‘Welcome to the home by the sea’.

Throughout all of this there was something else, too. An undercurrent. Something inferred more often than it was said and whenever it was said it was more as though the words slipped in between the others without anyone having put them there. More an impression than anything else, really, again.

Help us someone. Let us out of here.

But that would never happen. Tim knew this. None of them were ever getting out. That was not how the house worked. The ghosts could not - and would not - ever leave.

The living might, though.

Tim found himself utterly unable to rise from the chair. He couldn’t even raise an arm. It felt as though every inch and cavity of his body had been filled with the most dreadful weight. It was all he could do just to even blink, and that was exhausting enough. So pinned, he could do little else but listen, and let all of these stories and lives just flow over him.

Eventually - to Tim’s silent and immense relief - the sun started to rise. If there was one thing he knew about deathly spectres, spooks, ghosts and other assorted unquiet spirits it was that they were famously ill-favoured towards sunlight. It just didn’t agree with them at all.

And, indeed, as light began trickling reluctantly into the room he could already see the shadows started to retreat, taking the ghosts with them, and already he could feel the weight that had been filling him starting to lift. Relief flooded him.

Albeit not for very long.

For though the weight was leaving him, it wasn’t so much a sense of it lifting away but more that his substance was being pulled away. He was not returning to normal, but diminishing, reducing. So weightless he became that he felt himself starting to be pulled from the chair. Pulled by the same force that was pulling the shadows and the ghosts back into hiding.

Once this became obvious it was, perhaps, too late. Tim was already off the chair and slipping across the floor, towards a crack between the boards. He tried to hold on but there was no grip to him anymore - he couldn’t even see his fingers, let alone grab ahold of anything.

He scrabbled for the sack he’d been stuffing the goods into and though he could have sworn it was within reach he just couldn’t get a hold. He swiped clean through it and carried on along his way, drawn more and further into that crack, away from the light and down, down under the floor and deeper still, into a place that hadn’t known sunlight for decades if not longer.

There to join the ghosts.

You won’t get away, no with us you will stay for the rest of your days
> Part 6
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Now you see, that house you booked holds dark secrets." Vlad then turned to face another pony, "now where are you going sir."

"I was actually on my way to appleloosa, don't know why I took the bus though, I clearly could've walked."

"You should consider yourself lucky, because a terrible fate awaits you there."
> The Assassination of Braeburn
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The door creaked open, expelling the scent of freshly baked pies into the evening air. A little, pale-yellow filly peered up at me, unafraid and curious.

“Can ah help you with somethin’ mister?” she squeaked, her high-pitched voice not mixing well with the country accent.

I smiled as warmly as I could, standing as I was in the brisk shadows cast by sunset. Part of me wanted to push straight past the filly and into the toasty house, but if legends were to be believed, such an action could have very well spelled my doom. “I’m here to meet with Miss Applejack.”

Immediately, her eyelids lowered halfway. “Oh,” she said in a bored tone. “Prob’ly some business asso-shee-at, ain’t ya?”

“Not quite. I’m an independent investigator attempting to—”

“Ah don’t need yer gibberish. Hold up a moment and ah’ll get mah sis.” The filly rolled her eyes and stepped back inside, closing the door.

I adjusted my suit, somewhat offended at being treated so rudely. Of course, all it took was the distant baaing of some sheep to remind me where I was. I decided to relax my standards, if only for an evening. These ponies weren’t the first of their kind I had spoken to in recent days, but hopefully they would be the last. Everything I had found pointed me here, to a mare named Applejack. Maybe she could finally give me the full story.

The door opened once more, this time revealing a mare the same height as me. She had a slightly dirty-looking orange coat, and her blonde mane was tied back, both signs of a hardworking pony. Her eyebrows rose at my suit. “Uh, ah don’t do business after dark. ‘Specially not with strangers.”

I shook my head. “I’m not a businesspony.” Learning from my mistake before, I kept things simple. “I’m just looking for the truth.”

“Truth, huh?” She chuckled. “Well ya came to the right place, dintcha? Yer lookin’ at the Element of Honesty.” Her mirth faded quickly though, and she tossed a suspicious glance my way. “What kind of truth are ya lookin’ for?”

The tension in my mind was palpable as I answered her. “What happened to Sheriff Braeburn two years ago?”

She gave me a hard, appraising look, and for a moment I thought she was going to slam the door in my face. But then, to my extreme relief, she sighed and stepped to one side. “Ya better come inside.”

I silently followed her into the house. The entry hallway was short, with two doors on either side. She pushed through the first one on the left and brought me into a family dining room. A round table with a checkered tablecloth sat in the centre of the room, with seven chairs around it. Only one of them was occupied, however, and it was by the same little filly who greeted me only a few minutes before.

“Apple Bloom, hun, why don’t ya go finish yer homework upstairs?” Applejack asked kindly, but I could see it wasn’t really debatable.

Apple Bloom gave her sister a frown, and an exchange took place that I was not privy to. After a few moments, the filly sighed and snatched her schoolbag from beneath the table, packing her things away quickly. “Fine, but ya better tell me what’s goin’ on later.”

Later being when I had left, I assumed. The awkwardness of being amongst a family of strangers was not lost on me, but I persevered. The answers were so close I could feel them.

As the younger sister left the room and Applejack began getting something out of the cupboards in the adjacent kitchen, I looked around. It seemed like a fairly standard homestead, at least from what I knew. Every piece of furniture was worn but loved, and various instances of do-it-yourself repairs were visible, from the uneven sanding of the chair legs to the plastered wall barely concealing little cracks.

The only thing that made me double-take was the rifle mounted above the doorway. I didn’t even notice it at first, situated as it was directly above the door. It was an earth pony model, with all the parts (including the barrel) made bigger to accommodate hooves. I had seen unicorn guns three times smaller than the one on the wall, but for some reason I didn’t feel like insulting it. There was a little gold-plated inscription below it, but it was too high up for me to read.

“It says Remember the Red Rule,” said Applejack through gritted teeth as she carried a tray into the room. “Jus’ a little family saying.”

It was too late to pretend I hadn’t been looking, so I just gave an interested yet noncommittal grunt in response. When I looked at what was on the tray, a flicker of excitement shot through my veins. Two mugs and a big bottle of adult cider. This was it. I was finally going to learn what happened.

She waved for me to take a seat and started pouring the drink. “Ah want ya to understand somethin’ first.” I nodded. “We country folk have always dealt with our problems in our own way. We don’t see the point of gettin’ other ponies involved if we can fix it ourselves, y’hear?” I nodded again. “So no matter what you think of us right now, ya gotta keep that in mind. We’re simple folk, and we find simple solutions.”

Applejack slid a mug over to me and sat herself down on the opposite side of the table. I took a polite sip, which turned into a gulp as the flavour washed over my taste buds. “This is very good cider,” I stated obviously, tossing the mare an appreciative smile.

“If yer hopin’ to loosen mah tongue with flattery, don’t bother. Ah’ll tell ya whatever you wanna know, but ah’ll do it my way.” She took a long drink from her mug.

“Right,” she said after a moment. “Right,” she repeated. “Okay. Braeburn. Two years ago. What do ya wanna know?”

I sipped at the cider to steady my nerves. “Why was he the Sheriff?”

“Y’all never met him, didja?” I shook my head and she did the same, only sadly. “Shame ‘bout that. You’d know if you’d met him. Kindness and structure and brains all rolled into one stallion, he was. Ya know he never asked for the job?”

“I didn’t know that.”

“Yup. The townsfolk begged him to do it ‘cause they knew he was perfect. Sure enough, he had Appleloosa in top-notch shape quicker than you can say ‘buy some apples’! We were so proud.”

“Sounds like a lot of responsibility for one pony,” I said with a frown.

The mare leaned forward, gesturing enthusiastically with her free hoof. “That’s the thing ‘bout Brae though, he didn’t see it like that. In his eyes, the whole town was his home, and he was just doing little self-repairs when he was being Sheriff.”

That sounded familiar. It wasn’t clear if Applejack realised that she shared that trait with Braeburn, but I decided not to bring it up lest she change her mind about answering my questions. “So he loved the town and the town loved him back.” I lowered my voice. “What went wrong?”

“Dirty Rich.” She spat the name like sour gum, and the corners of her mouth wrinkled in contempt.

I said nothing, waiting for her to continue. My mug sat forgotten on the table.

“You mighta heard of his brother, Filthy. Lives in Ponyville, does business with us. Friendly fella. Not Dirty, though, no sir. He was as foul as the apple that never falls, rotten to the core. He saw what a nice little life his brother had carved out over here and got jealous.” The farmpony slammed her hoof on the table. “Imagine that! Jealous of his own flesh ‘n blood!”

“Despicable,” I agreed quietly.

“So Dirty Rich came to Appleloosa one day, bringing all sorts of bad ponies with him. Real scum-of-the-earth types, ya know? The kinda ponies who spend their days in the alleys, preyin’ on the good folk.” Suddenly, a proud look crossed Applejack’s face. “But mah cousin was on top of ‘em the second they arrived. He knew who Dirty was, and what kinda ponies he travelled with. Brae marched straight up to ‘em unarmed in broad daylight, the whole town watching, and said to ‘em: This here’s a peaceful town. If y’all can swear you ain’t up to no good, ah’ll let you stay. If not, then ah’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”

I whistled appreciatively. “That would have taken guts.”

“No kiddin’!” chuckled Applejack, pouring herself some more cider. “But that was Brae in a nutshell: guts, and lots of ‘em.”

“Is that how it happened? Did they…?” I started to ask, but she was already shaking her head.

“Nope. They did somethin’ worse. Dirty looked him right in the eye, unblinking, and said: We’re just travellers looking for home, sir. Not a single troublemaker among us.” Her hooves tightened around the mug and she glared into it. “They lied straight to his face.”

There wasn’t anything I could say to that. Clearly, the idea of lying was almost a personal insult to her, the Element of Honesty. I made a mental note to watch what I said.

“Honesty in this family was tradition long before ah came along. The Apple family doesn’t lie. Never has, never will, and y’all better believe that’s the truth.”

I quickly nodded and took another polite sip of the cider. Not even the flavour could distract me from the intensity in her green eyes though. “So what did Sheriff Braeburn do?” I asked in an attempt to divert attention.

Applejack sighed and scratched the back of her neck. “Ah don’t like this part. Ya must understand, we’re trustworthy ponies, and we always expect everypony else to be the same. Braeburn… well, he believed ‘em. Took Dirty at his word and let ‘em come into the town.”

“Oh dear,” I said quietly.

She nodded gravely. “Yup. First mistake he ever made as Sheriff was lettin’ those shady folk inside, ain’t nobody gonna disagree with that.”

After a moment of silence, I couldn’t help but ask, “Why did Dirty go to Appleloosa?”

“Kinda peculiar, ain’t it? He and his brother were really more city-folk. But ah thought it over after all was said and done, and ah think ah know why.” I leaned forward and rested my hooves on the table and she did the same, hugging her mug. “His brother Filthy got his big break when he helped start Ponyville, way back before you and me were born. He got in early and made a fortune through our apples. But Dirty missed out. So for all these years, he’s been travelling, lookin’ for his own breakthrough.”

“Appleloosa!” I blurted out excitedly.

Applejack nodded. “Darn straight. He saw the little town slowly getting’ bigger and wanted to get in on it before it was too late. Must’ve thought his luck had finally turned or somethin’. But the thing is, he didn’t have the brains or patience like his brother. He didn’t know what to do with the opportunity when he had it, like when mah dog Winona chases the mailmare.”

“And that’s when things got ugly?”

“Almost. It wasn’t a sudden thing, took a good few months before he got desperate enough.”

I noticed my mug was empty somehow, and Applejack slid the bottle over to me. As I poured, a thought occurred. “Wouldn’t Sheriff Braeburn notice Dirty and his gang getting worse?”

The farmpony nodded again as I set the bottle back on the table. “Oh, he noticed alright. But that was during the Great Derailment, and he was too busy tryin’ to keep trade flowing without the trains to bother with some pesky little gang.”

“But they didn’t stay little for long, did they?”

“Yer darn right they didn’t. Without mah cousin constantly squashing them back into the dirt like the bugs they were, they got bigger, more dangerous. By the time the trains were fixed and Brae could finally turn his eyes back to the town, they were too big to handle on his own.”

I knew this part myself. “He tried anyway,” I said solemnly.

Applejack smiled sadly. “That he did. The silly pony was too brave for his own good. Do ya know how it happened?”

Every description I’d found before was vague. I needed to know. “No.”

“It was in the middle of Dirty’s latest spree, screaming through town and robbin’ good ponies of their bits. The lyin’ monster was sitting in a bar drinking while his gang trashed the place. The good ponies ran and told Braeburn, and he realised his mistake.” The blonde-maned mare shook her head almost disbelievingly. “Ah don’t rightly know what possessed my cousin to strap on his gun and march straight to the bar, but it wasn’t common sense, lemme tell ya that!” Her voice was angry, but a tear rolled down her cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“Don’t be! Mah cousin died a hero, a thousand times nobler than every stallion in Canterlot!” Applejack panted and looked down so I couldn’t see her eyes. “But it still hurts. Badly, but it does.”

It went against every urge in the rational part of my mind, but it was necessary. “You don’t have to tell me the rest if you don’t want to.”

“Ah will. It’s just tough, is all.”

“Take as long as you need. I’m in no rush.” It was true, nopony expected me back for weeks.

“How ‘bout ah ask you a question? Might help me relax.”

I spread my hooves to either side. “Shoot.”

“Why’re you askin’ about this? Ah knew somepony would wanna know the whole story sooner or later, but what’s yer reason?”

“I’m an independent investigator. I only heard the story a few months ago, from a stallion in a bar. It got stuck in my mind, and I decided to see if there was any truth to it.”

“So yer not a lawpony?”

I chuckled. “Not a chance. I just like to get to the bottom of things.”

She raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Everypony has a hobby, ah ‘spose.” Taking a deep breath, the farmpony scrubbed at her eyes. “Alright, ah think ah can do it now. Alright, so Brae marched into the bar and went right up to Dirty and told him: You lied to me, Dirty Rich. Now how ‘bout y’all step outside and we can settle this like stallions.”

“sweet celestia,” I breathed. “Did he really challenge Dirty in front of his whole gang?”

“Yer darn right he did. Dirty wasn’t about to refuse, not in front of his buddies. But he also knew he would lose if he faced mah cousin with honour. So he… he shot Brae in the back as he led the way outside. Put another two bullets into the brave fool as he fell.” Applejack wasn’t crying anymore, she was scowling. “The coward hopped up onto a table and shouted: This is my town now! We’re in charge!”

My blood was thundering through my veins. I had never felt so much anger in my life, and I had never even met Braeburn. I could only imagine what Applejack must have felt.

“And they were right. Without the Sheriff, the town didn’t know how to handle the gang. His deputies were just regular ponies, they weren’t made for fightin’. So everypony just tried to buckled down and board up when Dirty hit the streets. They were pretty much imprisoned in their own homes, can ya believe it?”

“It sounds terrifying.”

“No kiddin’, ah was terrified when ah heard the news and ah didn’t even live there. Dirty and his crew had complete control of Appleloosa. There wasn’t a single pony there who could stop ‘em. They robbed the banks, trashed the houses, ripped down everything Braeburn had worked for. Ah think that was part of why Dirty liked it so much. He really hated Brae, always saw him as the only thing preventing him from bein’ successful. So with mah cousin dead, there was nopony left in his way.”

I took a large swallow from my mug to wash away the horrible images. “But I’ve been to Appleloosa. I was there a few weeks ago. Everything was in good shape and it’s one of the busiest trade stops out there.”

Applejack drained the last of her cider. “Now this part is why ah’m glad you’re not a lawpony. Ya remember what ah told ya about how us country folk like fixin’ our own problems?” I nodded. “Well, the second we got the news, me ‘n mah brother Big Mac knew what we had to do. We sent letters out across Equestria to every Apple we remembered.” She leaned forward once more. “And that’s a lot of Apples.”

“What did the letters say?” I asked.

“Ah still have a copy of one.” She reached a hoof into her mane and withdrew a small piece of paper, offering it to me. “Ah keep it with me so ah never forget.”

I took the note and unfolded it. The writing was uneven, as earth pony notes often were, but it was still legible.

Dirty Rich in Appleloosa has forgotten the Red Rule.

Applejack continued before I could ask what it meant. “Cause ya see, we Apples have a special kinda bond. Ain’t nothin’ magical, but it’s just as powerful. If ya take one of us from the tree, the rest will come down on yer head. Simple as that.”

A chill ran down my spine as I realised what she meant.

“So we hired a couple of farm helpers to keep this place runnin’, packed up a few things and caught the next train to Appleloosa. Me and Mac hid in the town for a full two weeks until the last Apple arrived. The townsfolk knew what was comin’, and they let us all hide with them. Finally, we were all there, and it was time to fix Appleloosa.”

The mare’s green eyes focused on me intently as she began to recount the day. “Was near dawn, just before the sun came out fully. Ah was with Mac on the second story of a shop just across from the bar that Dirty had been drinkin’ in all night. The same damn bar where he gunned down Brae. About twenty-five Apples were at the windows of buildings on our side of the street, and another twenty-five were in the ones opposite us.”

She reached across the table and pulled the bottle back, refilling her mug without breaking eye contact. “Dirty and his gang swaggered out just as the sun cleared the horizon. They were laughin’ and hootin’ and talkin’ ‘bout how they were gonna burn down Brae’s old house. Ah think that’s what did it. Next thing ah knew, ah was pulling the trigger faster than mah rifle could fire. Tore Dirty’s ear off with the first shot. Ain’t never thought ah stallion could scream that high.” She chuckled darkly. “Mac fired next, put a round clean through the liar’s back legs. Both of ‘em. Then that was it. The floodgates opened and every Apple was firing down at those bastards. Couldn’t even see ‘em after the first minute, it was just a big red dust cloud. Dirty’s head rolled out of it soon enough, and ah personally put a shot straight through it. Burst like a rotten pumpkin, it did.” I felt sick, but she wasn’t done. “When the dust cleared, every single one of them was dead. Ah honestly couldn’t tell which one was Dirty, there just wasn’t enough left.”

She sipped from her mug. “After that, not a single pony spoke. Ah looked at Mac and he just nodded at me, slung his rifle over his back, and went downstairs. Ah did likewise, and so did every Apple. We just went our separate ways, by train or carriage.”

I was almost speechless. The truth was far more brutal than I had imagined, but… I found myself agreeing with this mare’s idea of country justice. They had a problem, and they fixed it themselves. End of story.

“So does anypony else know the truth besides me?”

Applejack nodded. “Yer the first ah’ve told, but word got around from the citizens who helped us. No lawponies have bothered any Apples for two years though, so ah think we’ll be fine.” She smirked and placed her mug down. “You’ll be fine too, jus’ so long as ya remember the Red Rule.”

“And what is the Red Rule?” I finally asked.

The farmpony’s expression hardened and she looked me dead in the eyes.

“Don’t buck with the Apple family.”
> Part 7
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So you see, if you go to appleloosa, you'll learn the hard way that you messed with the wrong family."

Vlad then looked towards two ponies seated at a table, one them was a getting nervous about the situation, and  the stories about death are not helping. "Look sir, I don't mean to interrupt, but I got to get back to my apartment, don't know why I'm here, or why I'm a pony."

"Well, I was going to do spoiled rich, but since you rudely Interrupted me, I think you'll be my next subject for this tale."
> The Loft
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It all started a year after graduation and a bit longer since the car accident that claimed the life of his girlfriend. An accident that he’d shared with her.

He’d forgone the idea of college; the notion of further education frustrated him. Instead, he moved out of his family’s home and into a loft apartment in the city. There he resided quietly off of the settlement money from the lawsuits that were filed after the incident.

It was a simple life. He’d read his books, attend concerts, exercise his thumbs with games and occasionally visit the National Gallery-it was sufficient. When not doing any of those activities he napped or watched television and speculated a good deal on various topics, occasionally he’d write what he considered a well thought out blog. Life was sufficiently good.

One night after he’d finished the last page of his book his eye grew heavy and he decided to turn in. He undressed in front of the large mirror by the foot of his bed, went through his evening routine and opened the window allowing the cool summer air seep into his bedroom. It was then he sat down on his bed and turned out the light before pulling his covers over his head.

It was very still. The outside world was unusually quiet that night. He could hear his even breathing and the slow rhythmic beat of his heart as he lay quietly. He slowly stretched his legs out, his toes dragging on the underside of his sheet as whatever tension that was in his body slowly began to melt away.

A lazy, content smile slowly spread over his face as somnus’ comfort slowly caressed its way up his body. The world started to fade. It was perfect.

His eyes shot open in an instant.

Something ephemeral had caressed his cheek. It was as if a thin breeze had caressed him and with it the sweet smell of rotting wood. It was a smell that could not be mistaken.

His hand quickly jerked out from under the sheets. His fingers grazed the wall and he could feel the breeze from his window. Under the covers however, there was another breeze. What had once been warm and comforting had been replaced by the damp and sickening smell of rotten wood.

He threw the covers off of his face and promptly sat up. His breath was heavy and little beads of panicky sweat clung to his brow. His glanced about his room. Nothing was amiss.

In his mind he laughed but a groan escaped his lips. It had been nothing more than some sort of nightmare. His story and the greasy chicken he’d had at dinner were the likely cause he reasoned.

After a few minutes he slowly sank back into his bed. He pulled the covers up to his shoulders and then shut his eyes. Sleep soon found him.



The next morning it was as if the previous night had never occurred. He sat down to breakfast and ate heartily. Then, almost as an afterthought, he decided to go to the Gallery. It was there he spent the rest of his morning. He visited the rooms of some of the contemporary landscape artists and eyed their paintings. As he gazed at the pictures he imagined that he might take up the trade.

As he was about to leave a particular painting caught his eye. It was a picture of an old barn at dusk out in the country. In its loft there was a faint glow as if lit by a lantern. It was certainly nothing too spectacular when compared to some of the other pieces, yet the more he gazed at it the more he felt drawn to it.

His heart began to pound heavily in his chest and his breath grew heavy. His hands slowly wrung the program that he’d received before entering. It was completely idiotic; he thought after a few moments, that a painting should cause him to react so.

He turned away and headed for the exit but stopped in his tracks. Slowly he turned back to face the painting. As he looked at it again he realized that it was the barn that had scared him. Only a barn, he thought. It was completely irrational.

After dinner he returned to his apartment. No sooner had he opened the door when memories of the dream from the night before flooded his mind. He bit his lower lip and decided to make it an early night. No reading. He readied himself for sleep.

Once he had he climbed into bed and pulled his covers up. He shook them violently several times. Yet, the smell of rotting wood did not persist. He felt silly.

Before he’d gone to bed he’d made sure to leave the window closed and instead trusted the cooling of his apartment to air conditioner. It was in poor shape but at least might make the air move on occasion. He turned the light off and pulled the covers over his head.

It was comparable to the previous night. The room was silent. His breathing was slow and even. Even the creeping comfortable warmth of sleep was the same.

Then it began again. The breeze rustled his hair. The smell of rotten wood permeated his sheets. His eyes under the covers were wide open yet all he could see was blackness. He breathed through his mouth so as to avoid the scent of the wood.

In the darkness a small square of light slowly came to be. The purplish gray of night crept through. It was obviously a window. Suddenly there was a flash of light. He listened as his heart pounded to the ominous sound of rolling thunder.

He gasped and he could smell the rotten wood. From above him he could hear tapping. He became frightened and yanked the covers from his head.

The hot room surrounded him. It was not raining. The strangled squeak of the air conditioner turning on called out through the dark room and the musty air slowly began to spread from the vents.

He stared at the beam that ran across his ceiling and wondered why he was suffering this dream. His foot sheet covered foot tapped the mirror idly. He muttered a swear to himself.

Slowly he pulled the covers above his head to make sure. He held his breath and closed his eyes. He laid as still as he could and waited.

The smell invaded his nose again. The sound of rain beating on the old wooden roof above echoed throughout the room. He opened his eyes and watched it through the square of light as the lightning burst brightly outside. He reached about and felt hay.

He was in a barn.

His eyes widened as he realized that that was why the picture had frightened him. But what about a rainstorm in a barn could be so terrifying? It didn’t make any sense.

The storm’s cool breeze blew through the barn’s loft. It was then an idea occurred to him. He wanted to stick his head out into the rainstorm. He wondered if it would be possible for him to then pull his sheet off and have a wet head. It would at least prove he wasn’t going mad.

Slowly, he began to get a sense of the space surrounding him. The tightness of the bed and its covers slowly began to ebb out of this existence. Now only his upper back felt the mattress while the rest of him felt the straw and wooden boards beneath. The wind picked up again and on the cold breeze the scent of rotting wood assaulted his senses. It was too real.

He reached above him and tugged down the sheets. He was drenched in sweat. He flipped on the light and shakily walked about his bedroom. In spite of its best efforts the air conditioner had failed miserably.

He looked at the mirror. Its position had shifted. Instead of facing the wall it now faced his bed. He wondered how long it had been that way. He quickly turned it to face him and saw his own reflection. He was pale, unnaturally so. The sweat hadn’t just been from the poor a/c system but fear.

His body began to ache and his limbs trembled. Slowly he made his way to the bathroom for a glass of water, his throat now dry. After a couple of glasses he peered out from the bathroom over to his bed.

Nothing was amiss. The sheets were a nasty tangle of sweat and cotton but besides that his room was the same as ever. He muttered to himself about how the cleaning service he’d hired probably curse his name due to how thoroughly he’d soaked the sheets.

He sighed and left his bedroom for the living room. There he revved up his Playstation. He sat on the couch and played games, not wanting to go back to bed, until dawn broke. Then he slept on the couch.

Around noon he returned to the gallery and looked at the painting of the barn once more. What was it about this picture?

He tried to recall the last time he’d been in a barn. The accident had made certain parts of his memory more than a little hazy. He rocked back and forth slowly as he stared at the picture in the vain hope of relieving his back pain from the night on the sofa. He closed his eyes.

Hazily a memory welled up from deep within his brain. Then as if flicking on a light switch it all came back to him. He opened his eyes.

It was March, two months before prom. He’d suggested to his girlfriend Sunset that they take an evening drive out to Bosc farms. Old man Bosc never visited that barn after his stroke so the local teens had taken to using it and the surrounding orchard for their secret rendezvous.

Sunset had blushed quite noticeably at the prospect but didn’t object. When it started to rain they’d made a mad dash for the barn and eventually to the loft. Once there they giggled some. They kissed several times and eventually one thing led to another. None of their parents would have been pleased. From up there the smell of old rotten wood was noticeable, even if their focus was on something else entirely.

But why was he dreaming of this now? Why was he scared? There certainly wasn’t a reason for it.

That night he puttered about his apartment. He played video games. He listened to music. He even started considering applying for colleges with dorms. He even cleaned a little and found a few dollars that he stashed with his bank info. He also discovered that the foot of his bed ever so slightly slanted in the direction of the mirror. Yet, try as he might he couldn’t stay up forever.

Eventually he fell asleep on the couch, nightly routine and bad back be damned. He didn’t use a cover. His sleep was heavy and dreamless.

It was very early in the morning when he awoke. It hurt to breathe. His back throbbed in agony. He needed his bed. He went to his bedroom threw back the sheets. He flopped on the bed and pulled the sheets up.

Instantly he was back in the barn.

The rain had stopped. The gray of the early morning peeked through the loft’s window. It was quiet. He wondered if somehow he had imagined it now morning in the barn.

It seemed like the beginning of a beautiful day. He smiled wistfully and gazed up at the ceiling. Maybe he could catch a nap later on and see what the barn’s loft looked like in broad daylight.

He started to inch his way up his bed and tugged the covers from his head when he heard a rustle by his side. He held his breath as his heart stopped in his chest. Beads of sweat began to form on his brow.

He heard a small feminine sigh and felt something warm and moist brush over what he thought was his arm. He glanced over then down at where he felt it and expected to see an arm, but he didn’t.

Where his arm should be was a short, blue foreleg with a hoof at the end. Where the wet thing had touched him had darkened the hairs on the limb.

He screamed and tumbled out of bed. His heart pounded fiercely. He stared at his place of supposed repose as he gasped for breath. He gripped the sheet that he’d dragged off the bed with him as he slowly began to sob.

For the next two weeks or so he slept on the couch, if one could call it that. Mostly they were just painful naps. Eventually though he couldn’t stand no more of it and went back to his bed.

It had occurred to him that the dream only happened when he pulled the sheets over his head. In his desperate state he reasoned that perhaps if he slept above the covers it would be safe.

Sleep came dreamless and black and he stayed that way for quite awhile. As he slowly awoke he could feel his body not aching for the first time in over two weeks. He opened his eyes.

He wasn’t sure what time it was, but it was still dark. He looked down at where his hands should be and a sob caught in his throat. They were hooves. He looked up at where the window was. Lightning flashed and the rain began. He was in the barn again!

He tried to stand on his back legs but his hooves slipped out from under him and caused him to land hard on his butt. He fumbled around in the gloomy barn loft; unable to find the sheet that when pulled back would lead him to safety. Then he looked to the window. It was high but if he could reach it ….

“William.”

He struggled to his hooves. He ran toward the window and pounded on it. His heart slammed hard in his chest as he looked over his shoulder through the gloom to the figure that had been lying next to him.

“William,” it called, not quite a murmur but louder than a whisper. “William.”

He tried to scream but all words died in his mouth. He choked out a squeak as his name was repeated. He continued to pound on the window until finally it popped open. The cool rain coated his foreleg. His eyes were wide as his other foreleg searched in vain for the sheet.

The lightning flashed again and in that flash he saw her. It had to be her. She was admittedly orange and had a horn that stuck out of her head but, that hair. That voice. It was Sunset.

Through the gloom she smiled at him. Even when the light of the flashing lightning wasn’t present he could feel that smile. He recoiled.

Suddenly, as if by some miracle he could feel the edge of his sheets, his bed. He forced himself upward toward the head of it. With a thud against the headboard he was back in his room.

He grumbled and turned on the light next to his bed. Next to it sat a glass of water that had toppled over. It had chipped when it had done so. He looked at his hand and saw it was bleeding. He got up, went to the bathroom and bandaged it. Once done, he returned to the uncomfortable couch and played video games until he passed out again.

When he awoke the next morning he decided against going out. Instead he stayed in. He played more video games, blogged about his abnormal sleep episodes and thought about what had been happening to him.

The thought of Sunset, even in some odd horse form, excited him. She was still beautiful. The desire was still there.

Memories of that night cleared. He recalled how she’d laid pressed against him in his embrace. They’d spoken, though the specifics escaped him and listened to the rain. He remembered how soft and warm she'd felt. His eyes dampened as he recalled how alive he’d felt that night.

He had to be realistic though, she was dead. There was no way she could come back. All of this was some mental oddity. Grief or guilt perhaps that he’d unknowingly buried until now.

He looked down at his bandaged wound and shook his head. That wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t forced him to pop out that window or knock over that glass. Perhaps, and it was just a thought he could have the best of both worlds. During the day he could have the money from the accident and at night he could have her in the barn.

As appealing as the thought was though something about it did not sit well. It had been a terrifying experience. The smell of the rotten wood in the dark, the storm and the cold breeze had all led him to this point.

After several hours of consideration he made up his mind on what he would do. He turned out his lights earlier than usual and untucked the sheet. He lay across the bed in a perpendicular fashion to allow himself more time and freedom to escape should anything go awry.

He waited, but not for long. He felt as if he were being pulled toward the foot of his bed. He was certain he’d hit the mirror at this rate. Yet, he didn't and as he was pulled along the familiar smell of rotten wood returned along with the lightning and thunder, just like every other night.

He called out to her and there was a rustling in the dark of the loft. He called her again and in a flash of lightning he saw her standing quietly gazing at him. Then she spoke, “William. Do you remember this night and the promises you made to me? No matter what happened you’d take care of me.”

He started to tremble.

Her horn glowed as she lifted something long and thin, almost serpentine. “When I told you I was pregnant after that night in the barn you made a promise to me. You promised that things would be okay.”

He turned from her and tried to run. He tried to pull out from under the sheet but couldn’t. Something had wrapped about his neck and pulled him toward her.

“When you turned in front of that eighteen wheeler William it struck my side of the car first. I never had a chance. But now I do. I’ve found a way back,” said Sunset as the menace dripped from her lips.

His hooves kicked and dug into the loft’s wooden floor. What held him slacked just enough to give him hope that he had broken free of Sunset’s grip. In his panic he jumped from the loft in the hope that he’d reach safety. Then what was loose became taut. His hooves never reached the ground. He was weightless and the world went black.

At the appointed time the lady from the cleaning service came by his loft apartment to tidy up. She found him hanging from the beam that ran along the ceiling of his bedroom a sheet over his head. The mirror by his bed was smashed.

The police were called. The apartment was searched and it was discovered that his banking information was missing. They searched for it but it was clear that whatever money William had was long gone and not to be recovered.
> Part 8
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's a real shame what our youth has become. So many sinful ones, so many unpleasant lives."

After that, vlad to face Spoiled Rich and some other pony. "And now, it's your turn."

But Spoiled clearly wasn't having any of this. "Listen you, the only reason me and my friend are here is because we have a will reading to attend."

"And unfortunately for you two, that will reading will lead to your downfalls."
> Filthy Rich's revenge
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a wonderful day in ponyville, the snow covered the ground, ponies were smiling, and they were making resolutions, for tomorrow was new year's eve, and they were very excited. they were so excited, that they expressed their joy, the best way they know.



Yes, everypony was very excited for the new year, well except for one little pony, he was staring through a glass window at a group of ponies.

That group happened to be equestria's rich and elite, among them was Filthy Rich, the wealthiest stallion in town, he and the rest of the group were making resolutions, swapping manly stories, and eating waffles.

Eventually they began to get ready for their journey home, the moment they opened the door, a voice came rushing into their ears.



They saw the voice belonged to the young pony, and a mischievous thought came to one of them the moment he walked up and asked, "please give me some money, or some food, I'm starving."

"Sure, here you go." He said, as he used magic to take an icicle off the ceiling, and force it  into the colt's hooves, and he and most of group laughed at his joke, but they soon stopped when they saw Filthy approach him and give him a few bits.

"Thank you sir." He managed to say, before collapsing due to hunger and the cold, worried, filthy called for his butler, Randolph, and told him to "get him to my place, and don't stop until you get there." He nodded and as fast as he could, rushed to the rich family mansion.

The young pony woke up, and found himself inside a fancy looking living room, with Filthy on the chair opposite of him. "I don't think I got your name young one."

"M-my name is Thomas." He said.

"Well, do you have any family Thomas."

Thomas just looked at the floor with tears in his eyes, Filthy knew what this meant, "well, why don't stay in the guest room in my place."

Thomas looked up with astonishment, and then noticed a piano in the room next door, Filthy saw what he was looking at and asked him, "do you know how to play the piano Thomas."

"My mother taught me how before she moved on." Thomas said as he walked over and proceeded to play a little song.



"Is that the only song you know how to play."

"Well, my mom planned on teaching me how to play 'equestrian pie' but we never got the chance."

Filthy was clearly saddened by Thomas's story, and decided to do something about it, "I'll tell you what, after the new years celebration tomorrow, I'll hire someone to teach you, are you okay with that."

Thomas nodded in agreement, and then heard a voice that drifted from upstairs.



Thomas looked at Filthy and he said "that's my daughter, Diamond Tiara, she's rehearsing for her school's production of  'Annie' next week, I'll introduce you to her tomorrow, but for now, let's get some rest.

That night, as Thomas slept in the guest room, two pairs of eyes stared at him, one belonged to Spoiled Rich, the snobbiest pony in town and Filthy's wife, rumor is that she only married him for his money, the other pair belonged to his cousin, Richie.

"Look at that peasant, sleeping in my house." She said, "if word of this gets out, my reputation will be ruined."

"Don't worry about it." Richie said, "the moment your daughter sees him, he'll be back on the streets in a day."

The next day was new year's eve, and of course everypony in town began to party and celebrate for the beginning of a new year, but their smiles quickly faded as they saw Spoiled along with her family walking down the street, to the Apex Bowling Alley, where Filthy told Thomas to meet them, the moment they entered they saw him using the karaoke machine.



"Ah there you are Thomas." Filthy said, motioning to the little filly beside him, "I'd like to introduce you to my daughter."

Contrary to Spoiled and Richie's beliefs, the moment the two laid eyes on each other, their eyes widened, their hearts started beating fast, and time seemed to fade away from the two, if one saw them, they would say a spark formed between them.

"You have a great singing voice." Diamond said while blushing.

"Thanks." Thomas said as he rubbed the back of his head, "I actually heard you sing last night, but I don't suppose you could sing in public, could you."

Getting the message, Diamond walked up to the stage, selected a song from the machine and walked up to the mic.



Her performance earned some cheers from other patrons and employees, but no pony cheered as much as Thomas, "that was amazing." He said.

Diamond turned away so he wouldn't see her blush, "I don't suppose you're interested in singing a duet, are you."



For the next few weeks, Filthy set out to help change Thomas's life for the better, he started by hiring Octavia to help him rehearse with his instrument playing, which soon became his weekend tradition to hear him and diamond sing, much to Richie and Spoild's annoyance.

Every other day the two kids would go to the bowling alleys and perform there for the patrons, each day that little spark slowly grew into a flame, by the time hearts and hooves day came around, they realized they were falling in love.

Years passed and the two were now adults and were still hanging out with each other, and still performing but this time at concerts thanks to Diamond's, Father's showbiz connections.

"Great news guys." Filthy said, "I've arranged for you guys to perform at the new years eve celebration next month."

"That's great mr. Rich." Thomas said, "you will come and watch right."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

But one day an unwelcome guest arrived at their doorstep, and Filthy was bedridden and dying, Diamond was supposed to give him medicine but it was gone so she went to look while Thomas stayed to be with him in his final hours.

"Thomas." He said weakly, "I want you to sing my favorite song for me one last time, please."

Thomas nodded, and while trying to fight back tears, begin to sing what could be the last song he would sing for his friend.



Hearing his song brought a faint smile to his face.

And then... it happened.

His eyes closed softly, his breathing slowed, and the heart monitor that was in his room let out a noise as it flatlined.

When Diamond came back with the medicine, she saw it was to late, devastated, she threw herself onto Thomas, who patted her on the back in an effort to comfort her.

When everypony heard that Filthy passed away, they were upset, but you know who wasn't, Spoiled and Richie Rich. All they were thinking about, was what was in the will. In fact, on the day of the will reading, the speaker, who happened to be vlad, said something that would make Spoiled explode, but she kept it cool due to her blood pressure.

"I, Filthy Rich, being of sound, mind and body, hearby leave half of my fortune to my wife, Spoiled Rich as well as my cousin, Richie." The two knew what he was going to say next.

"The remaining half goes to my daughter, Diamond Tiara and her friend Thomas, last name unknown."

Diamond and Thomas stared at each other in surprise, but the other two stared in anger at them.

"If." That word got their attention.

"If they manage to perform at the new years concert perfectly and not make a mistake, then they shall prove worthy of my request."

The two ponies left but the others stayed behind as two evil grins formed on their faces, for there was still a chance for them to get the loot for themselves.

The next day, the duo were with Octavia doing their rehearsal.



At the end of the lesson, Octavia reminded them to "practice every day, this is important to you."

But as soon as she left, the terrible twosome walked up to them. "Come on diamond I'd like to take you to the factory." She said as Richie dragged Thomas to the other room.

The two eventually reached the factory, if you could call it that, after Filthy's death, Spoiled took over and ran it less like a factory and more like a... well, perhaps the song could explain it.



After that 'delightful session' with the workers, Spoiled led Diamond to the office where two mugs of cider were sitting on the desk, "how about a little drink to your future success darling." She said as she handed her a mug.

But what Diamond didn't know, was that there was a chemical in the drink that could mess up one's singing voice, she drunk it all down and they left for home.

Meanwhile Thomas had been helping Richie with working around the house, but when it came to mowing the lawn, that's where the trouble began, for the lawnmower was somehow rigged to release smoke every few minutes, Richie was confident this would mess up his singing and get him a chance at the fortune.

That night the two were sleeping in what was now their bedroom, until they woke up when they felt an unusual presence "who's there." Diamond said.

"I told you I'd see your performance." The figure said as it stepped into the light, "after all, I wouldn't miss it for the world."

"Mr. Rich, you're back." Thomas said, overjoyed to see his father figure back, but not physically back because he was a spirit.

After that the two explained the situation to Filthy, as to how his wife and cousin were after his fortune, and want them out of the way, "you got to help us father." Diamond pleaded.

"And I will." He said, "you've got to outsmart those two, no matter what happens to you two, you've to keep practicing."

The next day, oblivious to the ghostly presence in the house, Spoiled and Richie were drinking to what was sure to be their victory, "we're gonna be rich sweetheart."

"I can't believe my idiot husband thought I loved him." Spoiled said, "and once we get those two out of the way, it's life in canterlot for us." And then the two moved in for a kiss, but were interrupted by a noise that to them, was dreadful to hear.



Hearing them sing made them realize that not only the smoke didn't effect Thomas much, but Spoiled had mixed up the drinks.

"That was excellent." Filthy said, "you two are going to win, I just know it."

Unbeknownst to them, the gruesome twosome began plan B, "Thomas I'd like you to help repaint my room, the color is just too terrible." Spoiled requested.

And so, Thomas had to paint what was now Spoiled's room, while Diamond drank some very sweet lemonade with Richie.

By the time they finished, Richie's hooves were too sore, and Diamond was unable too sing due drinking too much lemonade. Spoiled and Richie smiled, because by the time they would get better, the performance would be a few days away.

Seeing everything unfold made Filthy upset, and decided that he must do what he had to do.

The next few days the couple went through every inch of the house, but found nothing. "I don't get it we searched everywhere but couldn't find the loot." As if on cue, a sound from the cellar got their attention, and decided to investigate, unknown to richie, spoiled took out a knife and stared at it with an evil look, it was obvious what she planned to do once they got the dough.

They went down the cellar steps, and the noise started to sound like gold bits clinking against each other. "What are going to do about them once they recover." Richie said.

"Don't worry, once we find the money, we get those brats out of the way, for good."

Once they opened the door, they saw the bits lying on the floor, which Spoiled picked up to inspect, unaware that Richie reached for a length of rope that was nearby, but stopped when she turned to him and said, "the money was in here the whole time."

Greedily, they scooped up the bits in the pile, and put it in ther coat pockets, but then, Richie shouted "MORE!!!!", and that was the word that sealed their fates.

Filthy happened to be in the room, and with a wave of his hoof he put tears in the rest of the bags which the two quickly grabbed at, but the money kept coming down until it was up to their waist, upon realizing this, the two struggled to get to the door, but it was impossible due to the weight of the money, they tried to cry for help, but the clinking blocked out their cries, but they continued to cry out... but then, they stopped.

Randolph found them lying on the floor, and all the money was gone, so he assumed Richie had a heart attack, and Spoiled's blood pressure finally got to her. Diamond and Thomas would be devastated, but since they were cruel, they, the townsfolk and the employees in the Rich's factories, all had the same thing on their minds.



A few days after this, the will was changed so that Thomas and Diamond had to perform well at the concert or the money goes to charity.

On the day of the concert, they went onstage, it was now or never.



At the end of the performance, they were met with loud cheers and some creatures saying, "Bravo!, Encore!, Take it to Bridleway!"

Backstage, they were met by their friend, who was overjoyed by their performance. "You two did well." Filthy said, "and as my will says, you get everything."

Later, at the rich mansion, Diamond and Thomas threw a party with their friends to celebrate the coming of the new year and their victory. With the two dancing what could be their last dance of the year.



When midnight came around, they and some other couples did what they usually do at midnight. They kissed, while Filthy smiled with satisfaction.

And it was truly a happy ending for everyone.

Well... almost everyone.
> Part 9
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After vlad finished his tale, spoiled seemed to be a little nervous but richie wasn't having any of it.

"What's the point of all this." A random pony asked.

"Why, to warn you of course" he said, "I just want to save you from the terrible fate that will await you when you die, unless you change your ways."

"Well, I was on my way to a town that's supposed to be cursed."

"And that's where you're going to die my friend."

The pony was put off by his behavior, there was no doubt that he was insane, and he wanted to prove it, "and what exactly is involved in my future 'death'."

"Well, let's just say it involves some family issues from long ago."
> Surprise Party
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

On an unusually quiet night in equestria, a pony walked down a dirt road all by himself, he was on his way to a motel for he had some plans for tonight.

As he was walking, he began thinking about his past life, with his father, brother and wife, he remembered how it all began.





at the ponyville hospital, a nurse pony walked over to a room and peeked in, "Mr. Adams, your son is here to see you."

"send him away, I don't want to-"

"hello father.

"jerry, what are you doing here."

"you know very well why I'm here old man, you got a big insurance policy on you, it's still in effect as long as you live."

with that being said, jerry made his way to his life support system, while his father could do nothing but watch as he made his way to the life support system, and pull the plug.





Jerry soon snapped out of his thoughts as he saw the motel he made a reservation at, it was called the 'dew drop inn', he entered and it was... Not very busy, the only ones here were himself and vlad, who was behind the desk, reading a book and listening to the music coming from the Alexa that was in the room.



Jerry walked up to the desk and rung the bell, getting vlad's attention, "welcome to the dew drop inn, all we ask is that you do what the name implies, now do you have any reservations."

"Yes, Jerry Adams, you reserved me for room 13."

Vlad checked the computer for any reservations and found one, "so, how long are you staying."

"About a day or so." Jerry responded, "I'm only staying here because it's supposed to be the closest to some dump called sunny town."

Vlad shot a surprised look at him, "you're not serious are you, there's rumors that the towns haunted, there's been reports of loud music, someponies talking about how long they've been here and that the town was abandoned after an incident."

"Listen, a relative of mine is staying there and I'm going to pay them a little visit."

And so, jerry once again went out on his own into the everfree forest, all the while thinking about the time with his wife.





jerry and his wife, cassie, were celebrating their newfound wealth after the 'death' of Jerry's father, "I can't believe how easy it was to bump him off, now that we got his money, we can move to Las Pegasus and make a killing."

Cassie turned around to grab another can of cider, only to be met with a rope around her neck

"I'm sorry dear, but I'm getting that cash for myself, you on the other hoof, get to take a little trip to that unmentionable place."

She struggled to get free, but she soon stopped and went limp, using his phone,  he called the authorities, "yes, I found my wife lying on the floor when I got home, and I think she's dead, please send an ambulance and hurry."





Jerry eventually found a sign in the forest that said 'SUNNY TOWN THIS WAY', so he followed it and found himself at a... very depressing scene.

There was some food, drinks, and some lights hanging around most of the buildings, but no one seemed to be in a partying mood, they just sat around, with depressing looks, like they were at a funeral.

Brushing this scene aside, jerry went to the nearest pony, named grey hoof, "excuse me."

"No I don't know how long we'll keep this up."

Jerry was confused by this remark, "actually I was wondering if you_"

"No I'm not going to dance with you."

Now jerry was normally a patient one, but now he's just getting annoyed by his behavior, "listen you, maybe I'm not making myself clear, I'm looking for-"

"The bathrooms are over there." He said, pointing to an old looking outhouse.

"No, I'm looking for a relative of mine."

"Uh sir, I don't think I can help with that, besides I don't know you."

Jerry looked like he was going to explode. "My relative shares the same last name as me okay, my name is Jerry, Jerry Adams."

The moment he said his name, grey hoof and everypony else that was within his line of sight turned to look at him, some of them had their jaws dropped, but they all stared at him wide eyed, like he said something wrong. For a while things were pretty silent, until another pony, named roneo, opened his mouth and said.

"D-Did you say your last name was Adams."

"Yes, and a distant relative of mine lives here."

But no one was paying attention to him, they were just talking, and some smiles started to form on their faces.

"Well, ALL RIGHT."

And then the lights turned on, and everypony cheered and started to walk around and talk to each other, have some food and drinks, and dance to some music playing loudly somewhere in the center of town.



Jerry was a little put off by this, nevertheless he walked up to a table where roneo and his friend starlet were sitting.

"Look I just want to know where she lives."

"I don't know where she lives." Starlet said, "but I do know this is the best gift I ever gotten."

Seeing they were clearly no help, he walked up to where a pony known as Gladstone was feasting away on some cake and what looked like punch.

"Listen can you tell me-"

"You don't even need to say it." He said, jerry smiled, he was finally getting somewhere.

"Of course this cake tastes good, you should try it."

Once again, he was at a dead end, so he saw a pony named three leaf, dancing like there was no tomorrow.

"Look can you tell me where I can find her, my relative that is."

"Why are you interested in that, you should be dancing."

"Well can you at least tell where she lives."

"Funny story, I can't remember where actually, but I do remember that this party ends at midnight."

Jerry was getting fed up with their behavior, so he didn't bother to ask the other residents, knowing that they'd just talk about the party.

"Hey!"

Turning around, he saw that a young filly, named mitta, was walking up to him, "you said you're an Adams right."

"Yeah, and a relative of mine lives here, do you know where she lives." She motioned to a path cutting through a nearby part of the forest, "you just follow that path and you should find her place."

And so, jerry started to walk up to the path in the woods, but he never noticed how the music seemed to distort as the residents started to change their form.

As he walked through the forest, he thought back to the time with his more successful brother, and I think you know how this will end.





jerry was just sitting on the couch drinking some cider, all the while thinking about his future now that he was rich.

"It's a real mystery how father's life support was unplugged."

Jerry turned to see his successful businesspony brother Terry staring at him with conviction in his eyes "and it's no coincidence that your wife died on the same day."
"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play dumb with me Jerry, I know you killed our father, I also know that you just married cassie for her insurance policy as well."

"Look I can explain."

Oh you can explain all you want, to the royal guard."

He took out his phone and proceeded to put in the number for the royal guard, but before he could call, he was hit in the head with a metal bat by his brother, "I'm sorry Terry, but I can't let you ruin my life."





Once again, he was snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the small cabin in the middle of nowhere, walking up to a window he peeked in, and saw a young filly talking to herself, but he only managed to hear three words clearly: "wish... all... end.", he took out a picture and saw it looked like her, confirming that she was his distant relative.

Jerry walked up to the door and surprisingly, it was unlocked, but it's squeaky hinges got her attention, "who are you."

"My name is Jerry Adams, and according to this letter, you're a distant relative of mine, Ruby."

Ruby looked at the picture and the letter and asked, "why did you come here."

"Simple actually, according to this letter, you've got a huge fortune, which is in your hooves, as long as you live."

Ruby got the message, when she saw the knife, she tried to run, she was quickly met with a knife in the back.

Afterwards, he dragged the body to the chair,grabbed a nearby container of gasoline and proceeded to spread it around the room, all the while thinking about how he learned all about Ruby.





the past few weeks have been heaven for Jerry, thanks to his brother and wife's fortunes, as well as theirs and his father's insurance policies,  he had an incredible amount of wealth. 

With it he surrounded himself with fancy furniture, expensive food, and fancy clothes. He'd also often had a beautiful mare or two for a little 'play date'.

But one day, there was a terrible realization, he was almost out of money,  he practically wasted his inheritances on himself after his family's 'deaths'

Yesterday was the day he received an anonymous letter in the mail. Curious, he opened and it read the following. 


dear Jerry
I know that you killed your family and your little money problem, luckily for you, 
I'm not blackmailing you, but letting you know that I found the solution to all your problems. 
There's a distant relative of yours named Ruby, she lives in a place called sunny town, 
and she's supposed to be loaded with money after her family's death. 
I arranged for you to have a reservation a motel near the place, but be warned though, 
the towns rumored to have a terrible curse.


Jerry smiled at this new information, this was going to save him from going to the poorhouse. 





Jerry suddenly snapped out of his thoughts when he saw mitta running in the direction of the town. Worried she'll call the royal guard, he grabbed the gasoline can and rushed after her, ignoring the sound of hoof steps right behind him.

When he got to the village, it looked abandoned, the music stopped, the lights were off, and bits of food and confetti were lying on the ground, like a hurricane struck.

Jerry ran to the first building closer to him and poured a trail of gasoline, when he finished, he lit a match, but before he could set the building on fire, a rotted hoof grabbed his, "I don't think so Jerry."

Jerry was horrified by the sight, it looked like mitta, but she looked more like a burnt corpse. He then heard a noise behind him and saw ruby, who looked just like mitta, and she was holding the knife, "you know Jerry, if you're going to commit murder, you could at least be a little bit original about it."

"What are you talking about."

Jerry heard laughter from behind him, he turned and saw starlet looking like the other two, "oh Jerry, Allow me to explain. This party was supposed to be the anniversary of our towns founding. It would have been the best thing ever, but it wasn't meant to be."

Grey hoof steeped out of the shadows, "one of our elders caught what you call the cutie pox, he recovered but from that point on he considered all cutie marks a sin."

Roneo was next to appear, "one day Ruby here got her cutie mark and we tried to keep it a secret, but he found out and killed the same way you did, but unlike you, he feared a scandal the moment he saw mitta, so he took the gasoline and-"

Starlet interrupted him, "he knows the rest, don't you Jerry."

Gladstone stepped out of the shadows, looking like the others, "burning an entire village alive, pretty sick way to cover his tracks, would you like to see."

As if on cue, the lights flickered then turned on, revealing the other villagers, all looking like burnt corpses, all staring with conviction.

Three leaf was next to speak, "ever since that fateful night, we come back here on this day to have our party, for we can't move on until we avenge our deaths."

The mob started to move in on him, as ruby started to talk, "the pony that caused our deaths was named Adams, your ancestor and my father, unfortunately for you, he's long gone, so we'll have to exact our vengeance on you."

"We've been partying for a long time Jerry, just waiting for an Adams to show up, we're already tired." Roneo said, with starlet right beside him.

"Maybe now we can get some rest."

Horrified beyond belief, Jerry made a run for the town entrance, with the mob right behind him, when he was close, another zombie jump on him, pinning him down.

By the time he got it off him, the mob caught up to him, tied him up, dragged him through the village, into the woods, back into the cabin, tied him to a table and poured What's left of the gasoline on him, one of the ponies lit a match and you can probably guess what happened next.

After that, the group returned to the village, looking like their normal selves again, "well, that's that I guess, I'm gonna miss this place."

"Well I'm just glad I gave starlet my gift before I died." Roneo said, "I'm just glad you enjoyed it."

"Just wait until we get to the afterlife.", starlet said before she leaned into his ear, "I have a special gift for you." Getting the message, roneo blushed deep red.

When they got to the entrance, a bright light took the place of the pathway, knowing that it's the gateway to heaven, the villagers entered the light and entered heaven, and the cursed town was abandoned once more.
> Part 10
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sound of a toilet flushing interrupted vlad's thoughts, they looked at the door and a full grown stallion stepped, "right on time."

This made him stare at the stranger, "what did you say."

"I said you're right on time, because my next tale concerns you, are you married."

"Yeah, I also have a son, and a daughter."

"Excellent, because this tale concerns both your kids."
> Foalhood Fears
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It may surprise my readers that despite writing and publishing dark things; I’m an easily frightened stallion by nature. Timid and cautious around unfamiliar things and paralyzed with dread when it comes to more… tragic incidences. But I suppose I could contribute that indirectly to my little sister. (For the sake of the story, we’ll call her Lilly.) Before I became a teen, she one day suddenly and unexpectedly killed herself. Even now as an adult, I still find it hard to describe the shock, the painful grief, and the anger during those difficult months after Lilly died. I suppose what was worse about the trauma was that when it happened when I was so young, I could not understand why she did it; no matter how much I tried. My sister was young enough where she hadn’t grasped the concept of writing, so as far as I was aware, she didn’t leave a note to explain why.

For years, something about her death never made sense to me. Because my memories of her were happy ones. She was loved – that I remember much. I taught her how to draw in crayon and we spent hours in scribbling what was around us. Mom and Dad did care for us – my sister especially, to make sure we were fed, played with, and if we get hurt, we could turn to them to make it all better.

But after she took her life… our family home that was once upon a time a happy place was turned into years of gray grieving and dark blue depression. As a teenager, I didn’t find much joy in going home as the loss of Lilly hit my parents hard. While dad had on and off affairs, mom would take up drinking her pain away. Needless to say, that as soon as I had saved enough to move away – I took it. I decided to cut myself off from my parents. In fact, I wouldn’t see either of them again until I received news of their passing and showed up for the funeral.

Later when I grew up into an adult, I became an author under the penname Orion Inkguard. By day, I worked as a delivery guy that drops off groceries in Manehattan, by night I sit before a typewriter, dreaming. Trying to come up with short stories to novellas as a freelance writer. It took a while of experimentation, but eventually, I found my nitch in writing up dark, horror-related stories from your traditional ghost story to giving my own spin on urban ledges. However, with every passing year, it was getting harder and harder to come up with something original enough that would catch the public’s interest.

Then one day, I got the news that my foalhood home was still up for sale – if anything, it was going cheap as no one has bought the property since my parents died. So, I returned home, partly to see what has become of it, and partly in hopes to gain some inspiration for a future story. What I never expected to find, where ghosts of the past that were waiting for me.





“So, is this your first time here?” My cab driver asked. This caught me off guard from my daydreaming and I asked what he meant. “Seaward Shoals, I was asking if this is your first time here.”

Looking over to the side of the open carriage to a town made out of dull red bricks underneath a muted gray sky, I shook my head. “No, I lived here once.”

“Have ya?”

I nodded. “Well, I grew up here. Often walked along the beach on days like this. Fewer tourists about you see.”

“Got ya,” he nodded, “then again, nowadays we’d be lucky to have tourists, even on perfect days. I don’t blame them really given the state of the town.”

He was right. Despite being roughly the size of Ponyville, there’s very few that live here now. Between the dunes that swallow up abandoned homes to the broken-down businesses that held onto whatever bits by the teeth, Seaward Shoals isn’t the kind of place a traveler would want to visit. The locals somehow kept it functioning on life support, despite how frail its economy might be. A gray, worn, tired place that seemed ready to give up at any moment.

“To be honest,” I said, “I’m surprised it’s still here.”

“Barely.” He stopped a four-way stop to look about and ask. “Ya know, I get that this is none of my business or anything…”

“But?”

“…. Well aren’t you that author guy? I’ve seen your face on a picture in a couple of books here and there. What was it… Orion-”

“Inkguard?” I interrupted. “Yes, the same.” There was a pause. “Did you read any of my stuff by chance?”

“Eh, I dabble here and there. But I do remember reading that ghost story a while back?”

“Which one?”

“The… Give me a sec to remember the title.” My driver hummed in thought as we kept going. “I forgot. But it had to do with a haunted painting.”

“Oh! Portrait of Prudence, that was an old one.”

“Hey, I liked it.” He shrugged, “The atmosphere in it was good and spooky too.”

“Thanks.” I glanced aside to a sad-looking bakery. “Lately I’ve been thinking of writing up another little horror story.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s why I came back to my hometown.”

“To find some inspiration?”

“Hopefully.”

My driver shook his head but said nothing. I knew why. Seaward Shoals could be described as a melancholic, almost a ghost town. A dying community by the sea. In truth, apart from my parents, this town was another reason why I left. Growing up, the town was mostly populated by old ponies that for a long time I was convinced they were here because they came here to die. Wait until they too passed away and let the sand cover up their homes. As to the foals, they were a few that I could recall from school and were scattered far apart. Safely to say, growing up here was an isolating experience.

Down a road between the dark pines and the beach, at least a good mile or two away was a more remote destination. A familiar one that leads up to a cliffside over dark blue water. My driver stopped in front of the “For Sale” sign that looked as if it had stood there for much longer than intended.

“Are you sure this is where you want to go to?” my driver asked as I hopped off and grabbed my things.

“I’m sure,” nodding, I ignite my horn to grab my saddlebag. “Thanks for bringing me.”

He looked at the house with unease. I don’t blame him for expressing such. My foalhood home with overgrown grass, weeds, and a barely perceived path towards a paint peeling, glass shattered, wood soaked to the timbers – it resembled more of a haunted house. He turned back to me again. “Listen, buddy, this has to be a mistake.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why would you want to come to this miserable looking place?”

“Because… I’ve been hitting writer's block and have no idea what to write about. So I’m coming back here to well… find my muse, hopefully. You may not believe it, but I lived here once upon a time.”

He hesitated, “Do you want me to come back later or…”

I thought about it, “Later tonight. For now, I want to be left alone.”

After a long pause, he promised that he would come back and began to walk down the sandy road. My attention back to the abandoned house, I pushed my way through the thicket towards the back. Following a path by memory to the yard where I found a decayed porch, and a rusty chain swing still attached to the branch of a tree. The swing moved in the wind, looking out to the dark ocean ahead, towards the cliff where Lilly... After giving both chains a strung tug to see if it was still strong enough, I carefully sat on the swing and pulled out my pencil and notebook.

While I waited for my muse to come to me, I looked about the decayed property for inspiration, as well as nostalgia. As depressing as the setting was, I still have impressions of foalhood implanted in my mind. For a moment, my imagination saw ghosts of the past, of me and Lilly playing hide and seek behind the pine trees. Here my mind’s eye saw my family in our swimming suits heading towards the path that leads us down the cliff and to the beach below. There, I could almost see Lilly on the swing and me pushing as hard as I could while she excitedly calls out “Higher! Higher!”

My attention then turned towards the decaying house. The once blue home with its two windows and door in the middle that looked out to the sea was like looking at the face of a dead creature. That growing up, I used to picture that the back of the house had a face that almost looked alive in my mind’s eye. Now that I look at it with its paint mostly sanded off, windows were broken and door missing, it’s like I was looking at the skull of foalhood itself.

I sat there for what probably was hours. Face to the sea, listening to the waves and the wind blowing. Letting my mind go to dark places to find something to write about. If anything, I almost was ready to give up and start the walk back to town. But as I was getting up, from the corner of my eye I thought I saw something moved. Whatever it was, it was coming from inside the house like a shadow in the window.

“Hello?” I asked aloud, almost hoping and dreading that someone was there at the same time. But there was no answer. “Is anypony here?”

Maybe it was a wild animal for all I knew. But at that moment, I was convinced that I saw something. What exactly that was, I didn’t know except that it was coming from the house. So, my curiosity drew me toward the house. For a brief moment, I envisioned the gaping door was the open jaws of a monster that lead towards a black void. Even the wooden steps that I gingerly climbed on creaked and moaned underneath me, making me worried that I could fall through any second.

When I entered my foalhood home… have you ever had this feeling where despite how familiar a place is where you know every floorboard and door hinge that at the same time it still seemed… unfamiliar? It’s hard to describe but stepping inside was like entering into a dream. That I know the dining room and kitchen of my youth and yet… there wasn’t a thing I recognized. From the stove being gone completely, to the empty cabinets, the mildew smelling carpet, even the bareness of the space that lacked anything familiar was unsettling. If anything, I was a little surprised that the doors were still on their hinges; including to the door to the basement. Although I knew that the house was cleared out when my parents passed away – somehow I was caught off guard in how decayed it had become.

Naturally, it was grimly dark, and the gray sky provided the only illumination. It took me a good minute or so to have my eyes adjust to the darkness. It was also quite apart from the wind outside. In a way, such a setting was what I almost imagined a haunted house to be like. Something that only the dead would want to inhabit. It was cold, dark, and uncomfortable.

I listened for… well… I wasn’t sure what. But I stood still, listening to hear something that stood out from the wind that blew and the creaking wood. At first, I almost was ready to leave until a sudden noise made me gasp in surprise. It wasn’t loud, but it was noticeable as in the darkness of the hallway that leads further into the house, there was the unmistakable sound of a rubber ball bouncing on the floor. Then another. Another. Until the tempo sped up as it came closer in which I saw the small rusty red ball rolling into the kitchen.

“Hello?” I called out, thinking that maybe it was a kid that got inside. “Hey, you’re not supposed to be here.”

Nothing.

“Kid? Kid! This place is dangerous, and you might get hurt. So, come out where I can see you.”

But once more, all was quiet.

“Hello?” Perhaps foolishly, I took my first careful steps into the darkness. “Listen, whoever you are, this isn’t funny.”

The decaying wood screamed in agony underneath my hooves as I made my way across into a place that I had walked thousands of times. Yet, from the overwhelming smell of mildew and dust that got stronger with every step I took, I searched for any sign of someone who might have been here. Carefully, I walked past the doors that lead to a few areas of the house I remembered, the laundry room, the bathroom, my parents’ room, but I stopped. The door to my room, there was a shadow in the dim light.

“Listen, I’m not going to hurt you, it’s just I’m concerned that anyone should be in here. So, don’t hide from me.” I reached to turn the knob of my door to push it open to find… no one.

“Huh… kid?” As much as I looked around the small room that was absent of furniture, even the closet door was missing, I stood there perplexed in how someone could disappear. It wasn’t possible. Even closing the door to make sure that maybe it was a trick of the light, but even then, the shadow didn’t reappear. I knew for a fact that I saw a shadow that was inside my old room, but where did it go?

For a long minute, I questioned if I saw what I did. Perhaps it was my growing paranoia that got the best of me, or maybe I had my first encounter with a ghost. Glancing down the hall, the rubber ball that attracted my attention was nowhere to be seen. Yet, did I imagined it all and not know it? Perhaps I was so desperate for something scary that I might have been jumping at shadows. “This place was never haunted,” I told myself, “you didn’t see ghosts before, why should they appear now?” After calming myself down, I turned back to my room. Opening the door, I looked at the room again.

Although my memory told me that this was my old room, it didn’t look like it. There were many reasons for this. For one, I didn’t remember my room being so… small. The walls I remembered were painted bright blue. But now they were covered up with a flowery wallpaper that curled and blacken with mold in certain places. I suppose my parents repurposed my room after I left. Of course, there wasn’t any furniture there. It too was empty except for the carpet that covered the floor. The carpet must have been new as I don’t remember having it when I grew up.

Now, it was at this point that I would be willing to get out of the house to go home. I mean, the shadowy figure alone might have been enough for me to write a story about. That was, however, until I spotted a bulge in one corner of the room. Like something was underneath the carpet. So, despite my better nature to get out of the house, I carefully walked across the creaking floor to feel it. Moving my hoof around to try to figure out what it could be, I noticed that the carpet was loose. So, pulling it over, I blinked at what I found.

Somehow, despite the house that sea had sped its cancerous decay, underneath the carpet in a dry spot was a pile of foal drawings. I could easily tell that they were made by someone so young by the simplicity of the drawings. The paper had begun to show a yellowish tinge, yet the color of the crayon drawings was still preserved. Yet, from the first upside-down page, I quickly realized that these were Lilly’s drawings.

I knew it was hers because it showed a crudely made family portrait. The earth pony outlined in dark brown was dad. The cherry pink unicorn was mom. The green outline of a colt was me. And the little yellow filly was Lilly. All of us were smiling. Happy as I remembered.

Yet, at the same time, I couldn’t help but wonder why were these drawings here? Most crude drawings of foals get thrown away eventually. But why keep these? Perhaps my parents didn’t have the heart to toss them away after Lilly’s suicide, but why were these in my old room? In the carpet no less? There were so many questions and yet, I was intrigued that there would be so many this well preserved in such a rotten place as this.

So, I began to flip through the collection of drawings. At first, there were about playing with sketches of Lilly’s toys, the swing outside, the beach, and us drawing together. Things that anyone would expect a happy foal would put to paper. However, the last drawing in the bundle gave me pause. On the left, my sister and I were drawing on the floor. But on the right, my parents, facing one another with hardened looks in their eyes, and their muzzles opened while sharp lines came out from it. Was this an argument? I didn’t remember them being this angry looking before her suicide, especially big enough to have a child give much attention towards.

At this point, I was ready to leave. But stepping out of my room, I was startled as I heard something under my hoof. Looking down, my eyes went wide as there was another drawing. I was certain that none of the papers I held fell out of my aura, and I certainly didn’t notice it before. So, stepping back a little, I picked it up with my magic to look at it. This drawing was of my little sister with dad who looked like he was giving her a teddy bear. I smiled. Now, this I remember, that on her… I want to say her fourth birthday, dad got her that teddy bear. Memories came to me of how much she loved that toy to where she dragged it everywhere she went – even in the bathtub.

But my smile disappeared when I looked up the hallway. There was another drawing on the floor of the kitchen. “Hello?” I called out again, “Is there anyone here?” But I was met with the moaning of the wind outside. At the time, I thought that surely, if there were ghosts, they wouldn’t leave drawings out for strangers. I wondered that maybe there was a kid after all who probably has been teleporting all around me, leaving these drawings to get a rise out of me. However, that thought I realized didn’t make sense. What kind of kid would do something like this, even for a prank?

Carefully watching my step down the hall, I picked up the new drawing. This one also showed my sister and my dad. But this depiction left me confused. It showed Lilly looking up at dad – only there wasn’t a smile on her face like the other drawings. Her expression was almost blank, if anything, her mouth was drawn as a straight line. Dad’s, however, was drawn with a broad smile, big enough to show teeth. Yet, held up swimsuits that look like they were meant for my sister. A purple bikini or a yellow swimsuit that looked a touch too small for her.

For a long time, I struggled to process what I was looking at. Why was Lilly so uncomfortable in this picture, especially over swimsuits? Living near a beach for most of my life and so close, we all went there with swimsuits on and we got them in town. But then a thought came to me, why was dad looking this happy in this picture, especially holding up a choice of… I looked at the drawing again. Where they swimsuits he’s holding up for Lilly to pick? And why would he have one of those choices be a bikini for a foal so young?

“Are they supposed to be... Lingerie?” But that would have been absurd. I have done the laundry since I was a teenager, and what few clothes there were, I would have thought I would have seen them once. At first, I thought that maybe they were meant for mom, but I never saw those in the wash. Even if they were lingerie, why would dad show this to my little sister?

Then, my ears perked up as I heard the sound of rustling paper. It didn’t take me long to find the source, and my eyes widen where there, under the door to the basement, a piece of folded up paper was being passed through the thin gap.

“Hey!” I rushed over to the basement door, thinking that I finally caught my prankster. My horn flared up, grab hold of the door handle, pulled it open to find… nothing. It took my breath away that for the second time that day, that someone had disappeared from me. This time, I didn’t so much as hear the signature poof sound when a unicorn does a teleportation spell. It was completely silent, yet there at the foot of the door was the piece of paper that was being passed on to me.

Unfolding the paper, I found that it wasn’t just one sheet but two. The first was another drawing. It showed me and mom leaving the house while my dad and sister were left behind. All of us had smiles on our faces except for Lilly who looked afraid. The second made my eyes go wide. It was a crude drawing of the stairs with my sister being dragged behind by my dad, his face still having a tooth-bearing grin. But what popped out was that there was an arrow pointing downwards, towards the basement. Looking at this drawing, especially with the implications of it… I want to deny what I was seeing. Every bit of my nostalgia was screaming that no, this cannot be real. These drawings have to be faked because if they hold any ounce of truth then that would make dad… It was a sickening thought, especially the direction that this breadcrumb trail was leading me to.

But, at the same time, this latest drawing gave me a direction to go towards. Whatever it is that is laying this suggestive story out to me, seemed to be telling me to go down to the basement. Down to the palace that has to cause the most pain, to understand what happened.

I looked over my shoulder to the open back door. Surely, what was preventing me from just leaving? I’m not being held against my will; I could just go at any time and I’d bet that even this ghost couldn’t stop me otherwise. Yet… these drawings were giving me clues to what happened to Lilly. If this home was haunted by her, what if she’s trying to explain to me what happened in the best way she knew how? Lighting my horn, I turned towards the stairs down to the basement.

Carefully, slowly, I took careful steps going down the soaked stairs to avoid any rusty nails. For I was scared that at any moment, the wooden planks underneath me would break. Each board screamed up at me as if in pain underneath my weight. At times I could have sworn that the wood was bending underneath my hooves on the way down. All the while, there was the stench of mildew, dust, and rot that was so overpowering that it nearly made me turn around. For a moment, I imagined that this damp, musty place was like stepping inside a tomb. Even the cobwebs and dust in the darkness was like walking through a Nightmare Night haunted house where I nearly expected a ghost to jump out at me to yell “boo!”

Yet, when reaching the bottom step and touching the wet concrete floor, I looked around in the light of my horn. As I had expected, it was an empty, dark, and fringed place that seemingly bare. For a while, I didn’t know what I expected to find. Like the rest of the house, whatever furniture or possessions that were here have been taken after the death of my parents. But there was part of me that wondered why – whatever it was – wanted me here. My horn showed that the only things here were a puddle, the rusty furnace in the corner of the room, pipes and beams overhead, a mattress and…

Blinking, I turned back to the mattress in a tucked-away corner of the house. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing as I was sure that every piece that belonged to my folks was gone. Nothing should have remained here. So, as I drew closer, I wondered where did it come from, and how was it that nopony has found this before? If it did belong to my parents, it must have been here for years due to the sweat stains, the torn fabric on the edges, the moldy black spots near the floor, and the imprint of springs that no longer held up the mattress itself.

However, what caught my attention was that in the glow of my horn, I spotted a piece of paper that stuck out from it. I confess that for a long time, I hesitated because of my fear of what it might show. There was no need for me to be a low-grade detective to deduce what these drawings were trying to say. My nostalgia of my foalhood wants to call all of this a pile of lies; that it must be my dark imagination that’s crafting a false memory of Lilly’s fate. Even the suggestion I found to be insulting as to say that my memories of an ideal foalhood that were changed from one bad day – never happened. It might be the truth for all I know, but if it is, it’s a prickly, poisonous thing that acts like a monster than a reassuring comfort.

Yet… If I were in her horseshoes if someone did this time me, wouldn’t I have tried to tell someone that they’ve hurt me? How would Lilly feel if that after all these years she finally found a way to convey to someone she trusted what happened to her and I turned away; all because I didn’t have the courage to look at the truth in the eye.

I swallowed and used my horn to pick up that scrap of paper. It was folded up, and as I picked it up, a polaroid photo fell out, twirling onto the mattress like an autumn leaf. My eye caught on that photograph. Although it was upside down, the picture showed my sister on that mattress with tears in her eyes, her hooves had reached down to cover up. It was only a glance, but I didn’t need to see it in detail as to what it was about. If anything, the drawing that was folded up in it only confirmed my worst fears. On the left, it showed Dad – his eyes violently scratched out – smiling as he walked away from a violated Lilly, curled up on the mattress, and with huge blue tears coming out from her eyes.

This was too much for me. Haunted or not, I wanted out of this place. So as quickly as I could, I ran out. Up the creaking stairs, across the kitchen, and back outside in the ocean air. I felt so ill, so disgusted at what I discovered that I heaved from the bile in the back of my throat; yet nothing came out. Suddenly, what she did long ago finally made sense. Dad molested her, and being so young, she had no idea what to do.

Looking up at the cliff, I saw another drawing that was held underneath a rock, flapping in the wind. Although as ill as I was and dreading what this one could be, I approached the edge towards the sea. Using my magic, I levitated the drawing up to me. On the cliff, it showed a younger me, galloping and screaming while Lilly had already jumped off. As I looked at it, the paper decayed before my eyes, becoming blacken with mold and falling apart in the wind. I then realized the other drawings that I had with me were decaying too, and in my shock, I tossed it in the wind. Over the spot where Lilly had jumped to her death to escape from Dad those years ago.

On the edge of the cliff, I did something that I hadn’t done since I was a colt – I cried. The past not only came back to haunt me but finding all of this out was a hard kick in the gut. Not since those bleak months of the funeral had I grieved so much. I couldn’t tell how long I spent there just crying my eyes out, wailing in the cold, salty wind that brushed against my face. Truth be told, my morning took up so much of my senses that I didn’t notice the driver approach.

“Hey, hey! You okay?” I didn’t hear the guy coming up from the grass and weeds. If anything, I was startled when he put a hoof on my back. “Easy! It’s just me. What happened? Are you okay?” I tried to talk but I was choked on my depressed state. Of course, he didn’t understand the garbled gibberish that came out of my mouth, so he picked me up. “I’ve been waiting for you to come back for a good twenty minutes, so I got worried. Here, let’s get you out of here. There’s nothing much for you here anyway.”

My driver carried me over to the carriage before he hooked himself back up again. Silently in my whimpering, I looked back up at the house again. I still don’t know if I imagined this or not, but before we pulled away, I could have sworn that in the window that used to belong to Lilly, I thought I saw a shadow of her waving to me. Given the state I was in, I couldn’t tell if what I saw was real. And given the circumstances, I didn’t care.

On the way back, my sobbing had dissipated enough for me to finally calm down. Before we reached into town, my driver looked over his shoulder. “You doing alright back there?”

I sniffed, “Sorry that you had to see that.”

“Nah, you don’t have to apologize for anything. Still, I know it’s none of my business but what happened up there? You were grieving more than anypony in a funeral.”

“I uh…” I cleared a tear from my eye. “Remembered something I forgot. Something sad.”

“Yeah?”

Shaking my head I told him, “You know how we remember foalhood as this great time in our lives where everything was so perfect?”

“I don’t think I would know,” my driver shrugged, “I take it yours wasn’t?”

“No… just that it wasn’t what I thought it was… or seemed to be. For a long time, I thought I remembered what it was like, that we were all happy and safe. Only to realized we never were.”

“Yeah…” Nodding, I heard my driver was humming thoughtfully and I asked him what he was thinking. “Ya know… I don’t what happened to ya. But you crying all like that… call me crazy, but I think you’ve taken the first step in the right direction.”

“What?” I asked in disbelief.

“Well, think about it, you being a horror writer and all. Do you know why we have ghosts?” I told him not really. “Well, maybe it’s the reader in me that’s talking, but sometimes ghosts aren’t just dead ponies poking about saying ‘boo.’ I mean, maybe they represent something like… I don’t know, those bits about our pasts we don’t like. The more we’d like to pretend they don’t exist, the more likely they’ll come back to bite us in the flank later on. And when they do come back to haunt us, they do so with a vengeance.”

“You have no idea.” I told him, deadpanned.

“Sure, if it hurts, I guess that’s because we were caught off guard by not giving it enough attention.”

“What does that mean?”

“If you only look at the best parts of your past, you might be overlooking the darker stuff that’s unpleasant but still important as it makes a complete picture. Sometimes I think that’s partly why there’s so much insanity in the world – that ponies have ignored the bad stuff for so long that it just explodes like a pressure cooker. Ya gotta learn how to not ignore it, but not do what your past says either. Sure, you may have been younger and didn’t know what was happening or all the stuff, but you’re an adult now. Just because your foalhood wasn’t some fairytale doesn’t mean that you should let it define you.”

“Huh, and I never thought a driver could be so thoughtful.”

“Hey, just because I drive folks everywhere, doesn’t mean that I don’t have a brain. Frankly, I wish more ponies use theirs more often.”

This gave me pause for a long time as my driver continued to drive towards town. Even if all the horror I saw was in my head, or even if the ghost of my sister was trying to reach out to me – perhaps for me it was a wakeup call. I have neglected those negative sides of my foalhood because for a long time it was easier. That for me, the narrative that once upon a time there was a great foalhood until it all changed unexpectedly and for no reason. Now I saw there was a reason.

But he was right, if I’m expected to have a future, I’d need to confront my ghosts.





West from Seaward Shoals, about a few miles away from the sea and underneath the shadows of the pines lay the cemetery. It is a lonely place as it is only accessible through an eroding dirt road, almost up the side of the Smokey Mountains. A poor place where the fencing is made out of logs and branches while most of the grave markers are made of wood. Yet, in this cold place, I came with a bouquet and a teddy bear.

I followed the fence that looked out to the sea, there I approached a sadly familiar place between a boulder and a leaning pine tree. Between those were three graves, and by the tree was Lilly’s little, modest marker. Just a stone that was cut in half that had her name on it. I sat down between her and mother’s, first laying the flowers down near her headstone.

“Hi Lilly,” I began. “I know it’s been a really long time, Goddesses knows that I have been too sad to come up to say hello. So, I hope you don’t mind, but I got you a little something to keep you company.” I placed the teddy bear down. “I know this isn’t much of a replacement for your Teddy, but if you give this little guy a chance, I’d bet he might become your friend too…”

I sighed, for a moment I looked up at the shoreline at the town and my eyes wandered over to the house. “Lilly… I know the teddy can’t make up for what happened to you. Truth be told, I have no idea what I would do if it happened to me – so young. But all I can do is imagine how… scared you were. That dad hurt you and you have no idea what to do. That not even mom could make it better, and you probably didn’t know how to talk about it. You might have been afraid of dad doing it again so… you found a way out.” I put my hoof on the grass of her grave. “I don’t know what I would have done as your big brother. But in some ways… I wish I’ve known so I could at least do something. What exactly, I don’t know, but just something, anything so you wouldn’t get hurt again instead of…” I swallowed, fighting back the tears that threatened to fall, “watching you jump.” I whispered.

For several long minutes, I stayed silent, trying to put myself back together before I said anything else. “I don’t know if it was you that now haunts the house but if it was… you were brave to finally speak up in your own way. And I know there’s no amount of sorry’s in the world to make up what happened to you. If somehow, you’re listening, your big brother still loves you; and he’s sorry for not helping you sooner.” I sniffed, trying even harder not to burst out crying.

Getting up, I looked over to the grave that was nearest to the boulder – Dad’s grave. The monster’s grave. My eyes narrowed, “Tartarus is too good for you,” I said, almost growling, “I hope you rot in that house.”

Returning to my sister’s grave, I used my magic to adjust the teddy bear’s bowtie. “Lilly… I came back to say goodbye. Not because I hate you – I couldn’t do that. You have made what was a bleak foalhood into something… sweet. I’ll still be going to hang on to the memories of us playing and drawing, but at the same time, I promise not to overlook the dark side either, to remind myself that such bad things that happened to you – to us – they deserve mourning. Lilly, I need to move on because I don’t want to be tied down to misery. Both of us in our own way had enough of that. If you’re in a better place, away from the loneliness, the cold, and the heartless… maybe I could give it a try too. I’m gonna try to find a way to be more at peace. Between us, you deserve the most of it.

“So… goodbye sis. Wherever you are, I hope you can find peace too.”

Slowly, I made my way to head back into town; to catch the next train to Manehattan. As far as I’m concerned, my ties to Seaward Sholes have been permanently cut. Yet, before I left for good, I did stop to have one last look at the cemetery. Perhaps it was the trick of the light or my imagination, but for a moment, I could have sworn I saw a shadow of a filly playing with the teddy bear. I smiled and turned back to the dirt road, I was finally heading home.
> Part 11
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pony was confused by the story, "I don't mean to be rude, but your tale didn't say anything about how I'll die."

"Let's just say that you'll meet your end at the train station, where a little surprise waiting for you."

Vlad then faced the flim flam brothers, "now about you two."

"Now before you start sir." One of the brothers said, "might we interest you in buying a one of a kind car."

"It just came in yesterday." Said the other, "once we get to our car lot, we can sell it."

"And unfortunately for you two, selling your cars will be the start of how you're going to die."
> The Death Wagon
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"That'll be 30 bits please." Flam said the the pony who was eyeing a red sedan that was on the used car lot. He gave him the money and proceeded to drive off with his new car.

Once he left, Flam made his way to the garage, where his brother Flim was waiting, "did he fall for it?", he asked.

"He sure did." He said, showing him the bag of bits. "For a pony who's in high school, he sure is easy to fool."

"By the way we got some new cars, they just arrived yesterday."

"That's great." Flam said, "let's take a look." Flim opened the door to the garage and there they were.

The new cars were a Delorean, a Chevrolet Camaro, a BMW, 3 mini coopers, an Aston Martin and a Shelby Mustang. The two brothers smiled at each other, and went to work, with Flim checking the vehicles for anything wrong.

"The brakes in the BMW and Camaro are bad." He said, "It probably needs some hydraulic fluid."

"That's too expensive, put in some water."

Flim then motioned to the next pair of cars, "there's also a broken axle on the delorean and Aston Martin."

"We can just weld them together and it'll be alright, if they don't go over any speed bumps that is."

He motioned to the last few cars "We also need a new steering assembly for the mini coopers and Mustang."

"Just wrap it together with wire, that should hold it until we sell it."

Yes, these two know every trick of the trade when it comes to cars, they didn't waste any of their money on needed parts for the repairs, because they plan to use the money for their resort in Las Pegasus.

But one day, things were different...

"Looks like we got our first customers for the day."

"You keep them busy, I'm still working on this car."

Their first unfortunate victims were two griffons named Elton and Cassie, they were looking for a car just for the sole purpose of showing off to their fellow griffons. That's when Flim showed up and worked his magic.

"Now this isn't just any BMW." He said, "this happens to be the vehicle used in the Con Mane movie 'Tomorrow Never Dies', and it's all yours for an easy payment of 50 bits."

And so, the two bought the vehicle and prepared to drive home to show off their 'fancy movie car', however, they weren't the only ones on that fateful day, a trio of robbers, disguised as your average citizens, arrived looking for getaway vehicles to use in their upcoming bank heist, the trio consisted of a pony, a dragon and another griffon.

"These 3 coopers are quite fast for their size, they can practically take you through the streets of ponyville in a matter of minutes. They're just 30 bits each."

And so the three bought the mini coopers and made plans for the heist, and then there was a pony known by some as salespony Sam, he wanted a car that seemed good for business.

"Now this Camaro is just right for business, whether it's on the road or not, it'll cost you 90 bits."

He bought the Camaro and set out on the road, there was even a factory worker who wanted to take his family on a trip for his day off.

"With this Aston Martin, you're family should have the vacation of their lives, it's your for just one easy payment of 50 bits."

And so he bought the Aston Martin, and prepared for the trip, after him was a movie fanatic who wanted an authentic car for his collection of movie vehicles.

"Now this Delorean happens to be the one used in the first 'back to the future' movie. It'll cost you 49 bits."

He bought it and prepared to add it to his collection, finally there was a notorious gangster, who was looking for a tough looking car for a drive by.

"Now this Mustang isn't much but it should be good enough for whatever business you're dealing with. Just 60 bits and it's yours."

He bought it just like the other unfortunate ones. The brothers smiled at their latest success.

"It's good to be in business." Flim said.

"When the business is good." Flam finished.

However, things weren't happy for long. For a series of unfortunate events struck equestria.

The first victims were Elton and Cassie, they were on their back to Griffonstone in their BMW, but since watered hydraulic fluid won't work on the brakes, they wound tumbling down the side of a mountain.

But they weren't the only ones, the factory worker was the next victim, along with his wife and kids, they were driving home, when the rear wheel of their Aston Martin hit a pothole, thanks to the welded axle, and they would up tumbling off the road into a ditch.

Next were the robbers, they were making a getaway in their mini coopers after their unsuccessful bank heist, they split up so one or two of them would have a chance, but the wired assembly fell apart, one of them drove right into a truck, another crashed into the gas station, luckily he survived, but some electrical wires landed in the gasoline, setting it and the car on fire, as for the last one, he wound up driving into a railroad crossing, and the path of an oncoming train.

Salespony sam was next, he was driving to his first business stop in his Camaro, but the brakes didn't work, and he wound up driving into a deep pond.

The gangster was soon next, he and some of crew were successful in their drive by, until the steering assembly of the Mustang fell apart, and they ran into a brick wall, crushing a pedestrian and a homeless pony.

Finally the movie fan was doing a test drive on the delorean but like the factory worker, he hit a pothole thanks to the welded axle and he smashed into a nearby building.

A week after that terrible day, Shining Srmor, Flash Sentry and Vlad arrived at the car lot. The brothers knew they were in trouble the moment they walked through the door wearing armor and stern looks on their faces, but they tried to play it cool. "Can we help you guys."

"You can drop the act you two." Shining said, "you know why I'm here."

The brothers were worried, "y-you do."

"Yes, a series of car crashes happened across equestria last week, and the only clue we found was that the cars came from this dealership."

The brothers were practically scared out of their wits at this point, "just what makes you think we have faulty cars on this place."

"Yeah, how do you know it's not the drivers fault."

"Because my little sister is the princess of friendship, I can get her to issue a search warrant for every car you got here tomorrow morning." The three guards proceeded to walk out the door, but not before Shining turned to face the two with a death stare, "if we find so much as one flaw in one of these cars, you two will be banished from Equestria, or thrown in the dungeon. Or banished and then thrown in the dungeon in the place that you're banished to!"

The thought of that made the brothers feel like mice, and so when the guards left.

"What are we going to do Flim, tomorrow morning."

"That's a long way away." Flam said, pointing to a clock on the wall which read 8:30, "we've got some to fix the cars before they come back."

And so the brothers began to fix the cars, this time without any of the tricks they knew, they didn't care how much the worked seemed rushed, it would be worth it to avoid getting banished from equestria, or thrown in the dungeon, or getting banished and thrown in the dungeon in the place they were banished to.

But what the two didn't know, is that while they were ACTUALLY fixing the cars, an odd looking mob made it's way to the car lot.

On the left were Elton and Cassie, all ripped and torn from their tumble down the mountain. Right next to them were the robbers, one missing bits of flesh, another very badly burned, and the last in stitches after his date with the train.

On the right was salespony Sam, mashed and rotting, crawling with the slime of the grave, next to him was the gangster and his crew, as well as the bum and pedestrian , looking just as bad as Sam.

And in the middle was the factory worker, along with his wife and kids, moving in a single file line, with shreds of flesh falling from their mangled bodies, right next to them was the movie fan, who looked a little worse for wear.

Inside the garage, the brothers were working on a Nissan Sentra, but they litterally dropped everything when the door burst open and they saw their former customers.

That night, the only sounds that came out of the garage were the agonizing screams of two ponies.

In the morning, the three guards dropped by with their search warrant, but for some reason there no cars to be seen anywhere, not even a tire, but they noticed a light in the garage. Thinking the cars are in there they walked in, and what they saw made Vlad's eyes widen, Shining's jaw dropped down in shock, and Flash felt like he was about to loose his lunch. For the car they saw was truly a Flim Flam brothers car.

And why couldn't it be: the brothers skulls were in place of headlights, two red tongues replaced the windshield wipers, eyeballs were in the parking light sockets, severed hooves served as door handles, as well as the clutch, brake, gas and light dimming pedals, skin replaced the slip covers, blood was in the gas tank, intestines replaced the crank case and bones were used for the gear shift, steering wheel, spokes, piston rods and other structures.

Yes, this was truly a Flim Flam brothers car.
> Part 12
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I must say, you two must be the most despicable ones I've ever meet, but that's nothing compared to what happens in my next tale." Vlad turned to face two griffons, "now what are you two doing."

"We were on our way to a place called sweet apple acres." One of the griffons replied.

"There's supposed to be a huge stash of bits at that place."

"Well maybe you should stay clear of that place, especially during the night."
> The Old Green Mare
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Granny Smith was without question one of the most respected ponies in Ponyville. When she was young her family moved away from the produce barons of the east to settle in some nice bottom land near the Everfree Forest. The earth was dark, fertile and loaded with the promise of good harvests for many years. It was in that earth that the Apple family’s seed found purchase. It was there that Sweet Apple Acres came to be.

The Apple family toiled from sun up until the moon rose. Granny Smith kept a watchful eye over the happenings on the farm. It was she who made and cultivated the Zap apple, a fruit so rare that it only truly grew successfully on that farm, into the cash crop it was. It was the same green pony who kept the finances in check and made sure every single pony on that farm did their fair share and sacrificed what they could to ensure that Sweet Apple Acres would be a success for generations. Ponies said that it was this hard work, pride, heart and knowledge that made the elderly pony smile a smile that could brighten the gloomiest of days.

Everypony agreed that the Apple family was, without question, the strongest pillar of the community and yet, over the years some ponies began to whisper about just what occurred on that farm late at night. Some claimed that they had seen Granny Smith engage in bizarre rituals while wearing the dyed pelts of various woodland creatures. Others recalled the time, during a particularly miserable drought, when her son and daughter-in-law were found dead due to unknown and unnatural causes. Both ponies were found on the edge of the western orchard, their bodies mangled almost beyond recognition as if something large had come for their very hearts and souls and was not satisfied until it had ripped and torn them to bits. No beast was ever captured, the farm miraculously rebounded and by the time cider season came about it was almost as if the pair had never existed.

Finally, there was the question about the Apple family finances. It was no secret that the Apples made a hefty sum off of the Zap apple harvest, Cider season and various other fruit and vegetable seasons and yet, no bank account could be found in any Apple family member’s name. Once again some ponies wondered where all of the bits they earned went. Some argued that it must be in a large safe somewhere on the farm. It was this story that caught the attention of two griffons, Leo and Pollo.

Leo and Pollo were foreign to Equestria and not known to those in Ponyville. Such stories about the Apple family were not spoken to outsiders but, when plied with enough cider any pony’s tongue can be loosened just enough to allow for certain key details to come forth. With enough coin spent on cider and a lack of interest in whatever rumors surrounded Granny Smith, Leo and Pollo decided it might be a good idea to call upon the old green mare and see if perhaps they could earn a wage during the current season. At least that’s what they told the ponies.

In truth, the two griffons had other interests and talents that were not related to harvesting crops or general agricultural work. They were burglars by trade and by passion. Leo had met the smaller and meeker Pollo while serving time in prison back in their homeland for pursuing what it was they were most passionate about. Once out of jail Leo and Pollo began plucking whatever they could from whomever they could. Sometimes it meant that there was a struggle between the burglars and the soon to be burgled. Unfortunately, sometimes that meant that the victim would be unable to ever tell the authorities about what happened to him or her due to the rather final nature of the beating they received. It was never personal and merely a business formality, one that Pollo hoped could be avoided this time around.

Leo and Pollo decided that May 1st would be the ideal night to make their call on Granny Smith. They had overheard from other ponies that her grandchildren would be gone for the day to deliver pies to some of the more treacherous parts of Equestria and would be back late the following night. With that bit of information in mind the pair pulled a large wagon, that the procured earlier that day, down the rutty dirt road toward the farm. The ancient gnarled trees hid Sweet Apple Acres from the rest of Ponyville as if it were the shrine to some long forgotten God. It wasn’t until they could see the house that the two set their plan in motion.

Leo told Pollo to pull the cart over to the edge of the western orchard parking the rear left wheel in a ditch. Once the smaller griffon was in place, Leo would knock on the door and ask if he could borrow the phone due to the wagon being stuck and them being lost. If however, he could not gain access to the farmhouse that way he would simply barge in and ask much more forcefully where the money was then tie her up and flash a light in the second story window so that Pollo could pull the wagon up, they load it and be out of town before the rooster crowed.

Pollo waited by the wagon, its wheel sitting just inside of the ditch. He watched as the larger and darker griffon entered the brightly lit house. The smaller griffon sat back on his haunches watched and waited. The minutes ticked by slowly and as each minute passed the small griffon became more anxious. Sweat beaded on his brow, his gaze turned toward the dark, brown forest next to him. Pollo looked at the trees and their blighted leaves. It was as if rain hadn’t fallen on the farm in quite some time. It would be a bad harvest for this family, of that he was certain.

After a half an hour Pollo began to fidget nervously. He wondered what could be taking Leo so long. On most burglaries they were in and out of a place in no more than five maybe ten minutes. The griffon wondered quietly to himself if Leo had had to get rough with the old green mare. He hoped that wasn’t the case and while beating someone you were burgling might be a standard business practice, it wasn’t one he preferred. The anxious sweat ran down his face and as he wiped his brow with a shaking claw when a loud series of blood curdling screams echoed from the farmhouse. Then complete silence followed by complete darkness from within.

Pollo’s heart pounded against his breastbone, his eyes wide with fear. He had never heard screams like that in his life. He couldn’t tell whether it was the old green mare or perhaps Leo. He’d never heard Leo scream and yet all of his senses were trained on the farmhouse hoping that it had been the mare. Every muscle in the griffon’s body was taut. Then in the darkness he could see it under the cold light of the moon, something exited the house. Pollo felt his breathing stop as the light sound of footsteps came his way and in the moonlight he saw her, the old green mare. Pollo gulped as he watched her slowly shamble toward him, a bright, peculiar smile plastered on her face that held the griffon in check. Pollo had never seen such a bright smile in all of his life nor had he seen anyone with such orange eyes before.

Over the next few months the residents of Ponyville buzzed about the two bodies found on the edge of the Everfree Forest. The bodies of two griffons, which couldn’t be identified, lay mutilated as if attacked by a large animal. Various body parts were missing from their corpses and their faces were frozen in their last horrible moments of fear. The town went under a curfew and for the next several weeks investigators, from the capital, Canterlot, worked feverishly to find the beast or culprit that could have done such a thing to two griffons that, by all accounts should have been able to fly away and escape whatever it was that was after them. Yet, after a time the investigators packed up without any answers and without further incidence. Soon the rest of the town forgot about the bodies found on the edge of Everfree.

When the excitement passed, the ponies of Ponyville began to marvel at how quickly the apple crop at Sweet Apple Acres had improved since that May. The trees were pregnant with fruit and even some of the other crops were larger than anypony could remember. Naturally, curious ponies would ask Granny Smith just how the family was able to turn the harvest around so quickly. When asked the old green mare would just smile and tell them with some sacrifice, a little heart and the right words anything was possible.
> Part 13
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And I really thought you griffons learned a thing or two about friendship." Vlad said, and then, out of a group of ponies at the bar of the cafe one of them asked, "what's the point of telling these stories."

"The point of these stories are to warn you." He replied, "so many of you are going to die if you go down the path of the dark side, in fact I have a little tale concerning you and your little friends here."
> Crow Maud
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Good evening, ma’am.”

To be honest, he might be true. Probably there’s somepony in the world for whom this particular evening is good. His expression when I entered his shop indicated anything but the fact that he had a good evening. Perhaps he was just bored. Who goes to a shop like that at such an hour?

Well, I came here. It’s already dark outside, the only light in this small, backwater town comes from this very store. The owner probably thought about going home when I interrupted him. Well, I won’t be there for long. I’m not a particularly picky client.

“What do you need, ma’am?” he asks, rising from his chair. Well, that’s actually a good question. While I was walking here, I thought a lot about the answer.

“I need to get rid of some varmints,” I say. My voice is monotone, despite my best attempts to make it sound casual. Will it always be like this? I can see his eyes widen. I can see his thoughts with ease. Soon he’ll ask me if I need professional’s help. Well, I don’t. I deal with my problems myself.

“You have varmints on a rock farm?” he asks. I only nod – I don’t want to creep him out more with my voice. Is it really mine? Certainly, it doesn’t sound like my old voice, but maybe I should get used to it.

“Yes. They come at night and steal our rocks.” He probably thinks I’m joking. Maybe he thinks I’m one of those ponies who can say every, even the most absurd line, with a straight face. But then I can see his instincts of a salespony kicking in. He goes to one of the shelves and takes something from it. Then he brings it to me.

A brand-new, double-barrel shotgun.

“You can load it with salt, so you won’t be in trouble when one of, as you called them, varmints was too close to the wrong side of the barrel.”

As a farmer’s daughter, I can appreciate a good weapon. Yet, it’s not something I’m looking for.

“I need something smaller. You know, I don’t think I’m strong enough…”

Of course I lie. I’m strong, kick of the shotgun is merely a gentle stroke for me. If I weren’t strong, I’d still be lying in that ditch not far from the miners’ settlement. If I weren’t strong, I’d probably never get up from there.

I’m strong. But apparently not the strongest.

He looks at me carefully. I know that look and I know exactly what he’ll say.

“You know that suicide is not the answer… I know a good psychologist, I can call him even now.”

I’m trying to laugh, but I’m barely able to crack a small smile. Just another thing they took from me.

“I assure you, I’m not going to kill myself.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but then I move my saddlebags so he can hear the bits ringing inside. He goes to another shelf and brings me a pistol. It’s small, far easier to conceal. I see the letters on the grip: “VIS” on the right side, “FB” on the left.

“I just got it from Ponyville.” He explains. “Eight rounds per magazine…”

He gives me other technical details, something about short recoil and 9x19 mm bullets, but I don’t listen. Eight rounds. He says something about two magazines being added to each gun. That makes sixteen. Still, I’m five rounds short.

Four rounds, I correct myself. Despite what he thinks about me, I’m not going to commit suicide. My sisters and parents wouldn’t live that through. Four rounds, if everything goes well. I guess I won’t have much time to reload, I’d rather have the bullets in magazines instead of lying loose in my saddlebags.

I tell him that I want three magazines. That finally convinces him that I don’t want to commit suicide. That’d be running away, and Pies never run away. They deal with their problems themselves. Even Pinkie didn’t run away to Ponyville. She just decided that it’d be for the best and I understand it.

He doesn’t ask why do I need to fire twenty bullets quickly, without wasting time on loading the magazine. Hell, even if I asked him for a pistol and one bullet, he probably wouldn’t mind, as long as I wouldn’t blow my brain out in his shop. Perhaps he’d just ask me to go outside and after I’d be done, he’d take the pistol from my hoof, clean it and put it on display again.

I pay, take my newly acquired pistol, three magazines, and a box with fifty bullets, and spin to leave the shop. Just before I walk through the door, he asks:

“Where are you going?”

There you are, my dear gun seller. You fear that I’ll follow you and put one of those pretty bullets you generously sold me for half the price in your head? Or that I’ll wait for you next to your house door? Well, mate, you’re wrong. I have better things to do tonight than taking your life.

“I’m taking the road of hate,” I reply. I know that’s unnecessary poetic, but I’m a poet after all. He says nothing so I slam the door and trot out of the town. Maybe he’ll even call the police. Good luck with that. The police in this town consists of an old sheriff who can’t find his way out of paper bag, and a young trooper, who’s now probably drunk out of his mind. That’s why I didn’t go to them for help.

Halfway between the town and the rock farm where I live, there’s a miners’ settlement. Nothing really interesting there; several provisional, wooden huts on the foothills surrounding a coal mine, and a board proudly announcing that the settlement is called New Mine and its population consists currently of 48 ponies.

48 ponies. Twenty strong, earth stallions, rarely seen without their hard hats. Twenty mares, their coats dark from the coal dust. Eight skinny, rachitic foals. Their mothers can barely feed them. Soil here gives birth only to rocks and stones. With some talent and strong teeth you can eat a rock, but it can hardly be called a healthy diet.

I walk down the dirt road, whistling a happy tune. The pistol is hidden in an inner pocket of my dress (I wear it since that memorable day when I found myself in a ditch), the spare magazines are in my saddlebags next to a rock candy necklace – the last one Pinkie made for me before she left the rock farm, just a month ago.

I smile as her face appear in my mind. I’d give everything to meet her again. Sure, Limestone and Marble are still there, but it’s just not the same without her.

I look at the sky. The stars shine just like a week ago when I was also walking this path, back to the farm after running some errands in the town. I look at the Mare in the Moon – a silent witness of everything that happened on that Friday evening. For a moment I have a feeling that she knows exactly what I’m going to do. I shudder, but she doesn’t react. Just like she didn’t react back then.

Well, Mare in the Moon, Luna, or whatever you were called back in the days when the two sisters ruled over Equestria, you can’t stop me now. I made my choice. Next time it could be Marble or Limestone who’d meet twenty miners coming back from the inn on a Friday evening. They aren’t as strong as me… Well, Nightmare Moon, I guess you don’t really understand that. You and your sister didn’t have so good relationships, did you?

The air is cold, but it’s not bad. It helps me clear my mind and focus on what I need to do. I can’t let emotions rule over me. I have to be precise. Twenty ponies. Twenty bullets. I trot forward, repeating these words like a mantra. The wind blows across the rocky plateau, littered with rickety bushes. I can hear the crickets chirping and occasional squeak of a mouse.

I can see a wooden board in front of me. I know the lettering by heart. It doesn’t really interest me. What really caught my attention is a small rock lying next to it. There’s nothing special about it. Actually, it’s more like a small pebble. A stone who wanted to be something bigger… A rock. A boulder. A mountain. Just like me, before…

Stop it. It’s a rock. It doesn’t feel. It certainly doesn’t want to be a boulder. It has no ambitions. It doesn’t make plans for the future. Just like me – my only plan for the future involves a miners’ settlement, a gun and twenty 9x19 mm bullets. What happens next, doesn’t matter. I’m like that rock, I can live through almost anything.

It’s strange, but when I woke up in that ditch a week ago, I felt only physical pain. The feeling of being tainted, humiliated – I didn’t have it. Just the pain. It took me a while before I got out and went back home. My parents were still asleep – they were used to the fact that I was the most independent of their daughters (maybe except of Pinkie) and I was often coming back from the town late. Not that I am a party girl, like my sister. There are a few well-known geologists living in the town, and I often spend time discussing various things with them. I wanted to become a geologist too. Now I don’t know what I want to do anymore.

I sigh, then I load the gun, checking if everything is in place. One step down the dirt path. Then another. Even though it’s dark I can see the silhouettes of the miners’ huts. I hope they had a good evening and are now asleep, drunk, next to their wives and foals. Not that it’d change anything if they were awake. But it’d make things easier. I’m not like all those murderers I’ve read about, who want their victims cower in fear. I don’t want to see them suffer. I simply don’t want them to hurt my sisters.

I’m only a few yards from the nearest hut. The door isn’t locked. Those miners never lock the doors – the whole population consists of just 48 ponies, they all know each other, who’d dare to break into their colleague’s house? I push them open, the gun ready in my hoof…

Half of an hour later, I walk back to the board. I thought I’d feel something. Joy? Disgust? None of these. It was almost like a boring chore. I was precise. There are still four bullets in the third of the magazines I bought and twenty six in the box. I don’t know what I’ll do with them yet. I’ll never use them to kill anypony, that’s for sure.

Most of them were asleep, indeed. I walked at one of them while he was having sex with his wife. She was screaming at me. She thought I’d kill her too… I didn’t. Some of the mares were trying to stop me, but I knocked them down, even though I had more bullets than I needed to kill everypony in the settlement. The foals were crying, but they couldn’t do anything.

If there’s something I regret, it’s the foals. But it’s not my fault. Their fathers could just leave me alone when I told them so. They already had a good evening that day. But they wanted it to be even better and that’s why I had to do what I did.

I stop by the board. The stone is still there. I pick it up and examine it carefully. I’d never thought that I could relate to a rock, but apparently it’s what I just did. Except the rock probably didn’t do anything violent in its “life”…

Well, up till now. I smash it against the board, leaving a large dent where “4” used to be. It didn’t crush upon the impact. It may be just a small stone, but it’s strong like the mightiest boulder. Not even the smallest dent tarnishes its surface. Just like what I just did didn’t taint me. It was just a chore. I use the rock to carve a new number on the plank.

I take a step back to watch the effects. It’s almost unchanged, save from a small detail. I can’t help but read it aloud, to the crickets, mice, and silent Mare in the Moon:


Welcome to New Mine

Population: 28.


For a moment, I watch it in awe. I’m not proud of what I've done. But I’m not horrified by it either.

“Time to go home, Boulder,” I say to the stone. I’m going to carry him everywhere in the inner pocket of my dress – where my gun used to be before I put it in my saddlebags like a tool I don’t need anymore. Maybe I’m sentimental? Maybe I want to have at least one souvenir from that night?

I head to the rock farm, thinking about my sisters. Marble and Limestone are safe now. Pinkie is far away, but if something happens to her, I’ll sure be there to protect her or to take revenge.

I’ll sure be there.

The wind is blowing cold, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything, except of the weight of Boulder in my pocket. As I’m closer to my home, I take the gun and remaining bullets out of my saddlebags and throw it into the hole into the small lake near the path. I’m sorry, gunsmiths from the distant Ponyville. I assure you that I’m satisfied with your work, but it simply outlived its usefulness.

Finally I’m home. I take off my dress and lie down in my bed, carefully placing Boulder on the nightstand. Just before I close my eyes, a final thought appear in my mind.

That really was a good evening.
> Part 14
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"It's kind of hard to believe that in a land of friendship, there's so many sinful ones in the world." Vlad said, "but then again, we are threatened by so many bad guys and girls... girls like you." He turned to face another pony who was looking around for something to do, who stopped when she noticed he was referring to her, "look, before you accuse me of anything, I'll have you know I've got an important trial to go to.

"But alas my friend, that trial will be the end of you, because you let yourself become one of them."
> Aryanne gets Executed
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Celestia raised an eyebrow as she looked down from her throne at the white, blonde-maned, blue-eyed pony before her. "And, where did you say you were from..." She looked at her notes. "Aryanne?"

"Germany!" she replied.

"And what exactly did you want?" Celestia asked.

Aryanne smiled cheerfully. "I have come for all zee jews! And the gays and lesbians, of course. And the infirm and mentally unsound! And the gypsies! And several others!"

"What are you going to do with them?" Celestia asked, taken aback.

"Why, I am going to take them to zee concentration camps, of course!" Aryanne replied. "These unsightly people must be eliminated for the purity of all pony kind!"

Celestia's pupils narrowed as her eyes widened. "Good heavens, you're a nazi!" she shouted.

Aryanne cocked her head. "Yes? Of course I am. What did you think I was, some sort of sexy mail-order-bride? Heavens, no! I am the embodiment of fascism! Genocide is in every fiber of my existence!"

Celestia would not stand for that.





"The court is in session!" Celestia said, banging a loud gavel while she sat high above the court in her podium, flanked by the other Princesses on either side of her. Before her was Aryanne the nazi pony. But she had a lot of others with her. Her lawyer, not to mention her countless friends, were all humans who were very angry with Celestia. But the sun princess continued anyway. "Aryanne! You stand trial for intent to commit genocide! How do you plead?"

"Not guilty, your honor," her lawyer replied.

"State your case," Celestia said.

The laywer stood and began to pace around the courtroom. "Your Honor, you must understand. Aryanne is not a threat to you or any of your ponies. She's little more than a joke! No one takes her seriously!"

Celestia raised an eyebrow. "Do you find genocide funny, sir?" she asked.

"No, no, of course not," he backpedaled. "But not everyone has the same sense of humor. A lot of people like dark and edgy humor."

"Many others like to live, sir," Celestia retorted. "And they cannot live peacefully if they know there are those among them who would gleefully kill them if they were given the chance."

"But Equestria is a free society!" the lawyer exclaimed. "My client has a right to free speech! To try and get rid of her would be censorship!"

"Free speech does not mean she can say whatever she likes without repercussion," Celestia said. "She advocates genocide. Everything about her, from her appearance to her cutie mark, is a symbol of genocide. There is no law stating that others must allow her to speak her vile rhetoric. And given her blatant symbolism, her very existence is tantamount to hate speech. How is she any different from a swastika sprayed over a synagogue? If she is allowed within our midst, all those she hates are unsafe."

"But there are lots of ponies that love her!" the lawyer pointed out. "Even jews, gays, you name it!"

"It is true!" Aryanne piped up. "There have even been jews who have made adult films with me!"

Celestia was at a loss for words. "How... is that relevant?" she asked. "It doesn't matter who likes her or who doesn't. Look at what she is. What she stands for. How can you stand there and defend a nazi?"

The lawyer threw up his hands. "Whoa, whoa! I'm not defending nazi ideology! I'm merely an advocate for free speech!"

"And what about the speech of those who would be her victims?" Celestia retorted.

Derpy was called to the stand, wearing a frown despite her bright, lopsided eyes. When it was her time to testify, she said, "My name is Derpy, and Aryanne wants to kill me. My eyes are funny and I don't talk right. She says I'm 'mentally unsound.'"

The human lawyer approached the stand. "Now now, Derpy, don't you think you're overreacting? Aryanne doesn't want to kill you."

"Oh, yes I do!" Aryanne said. "If I win this case, I will certainly do everything in my power to cleanse Equestria of unfit ponies!"

Derpy continued. "She wants to kill my friends, too. We're all worried about her. If she was alone, we might not be so afraid, but..." her lopsided eyes looked out over the crowd of humans. "All of you came out to support her. You all don't seem to mind who she is and what she stands for. You all seem to like her, and want her to stay. But don't you see how scary that is?" Derpy pleaded with the crowd. "You all say she's just a joke, but what happens when it isn't a joke? How am I supposed to tell which of you are nazis and which of you aren't if you let her stay around?"

The lawyer crossed his arms. "Now Derpy, you can't just call everyone you don't like a nazi."

"But you all love her!" Derpy replied. "You all stick by her, and you came out to protect her, and you want her to stay, even though she wants to hurt me, and she's hurt people like me before! Don't you like me, too? Why won't you stand up for me too?"

The lawyer shook his head. "Derpy, Derpy... Of course we love you, too. Can't we love you both? Can't we all just get along and try to see eye to eye?"

"But she wants to kill me!" Derpy insisted. "We can't get along because she will hurt me! She can't stay! She needs to leave!"

Clicking his tongue, the lawyer said, "You want to exile her just for existing? It sounds like you're just as bad as you say she is."

"Why won't you listen?" Derpy cried. "She hates me for who I am! For existing! I hate her because she wants to kill me! Why doesn't that bother any of you? How can you think this is funny when there are people and ponies around you who are suffering because of her? She's evil! Why are you trying to make her likeable? Why are you trying to show her side of the story? The only thing she wants is me dead! She can stop being a nazi, but I can't stop having weird eyes, and other ponies can't stop being jewish or gay or whatever else she hates!"

Celestia spoke now. "Derpy does bring up a good point," she said. Then, she turned to Aryanne. "Aryanne? Your very existence is an act of hate speech. You are the hoof in the door. If we allow you to stay, then we have to allow your friends to stay. And then we have to allow them to meet and organize. And then it will be too late. I cannot allow you to exist in a peaceful land when you and many others will use you to try and rally and change the opinion of the public toward fascism and genocide. Already, we have heard those opinions voiced today. You and others like you have caused many to forget what you are. They think you're a relic of the past. They think you could never gain power again. But it is clear to me that you already have. But I am not like you. So I will give you a choice." Celestia drew herself up high and issued her ultimatum. "You must renounce your ways, Aryanne. I can sentence you to community service where you will learn to coexist peacefully among the jewish, gay, disabled, and other ponies you target. You can live as you please, as long as you do not do or say anything that would advocate harm to them. You can live a normal life and stop speaking of these things. Even if you quietly believe them in your heart all the same, you can live among us as long as you do not make yourself a threat to those around you. Do you accept?"

The lawyer was spluttering. "That's censorship! You can't tell her not to share her beliefs!"

"And what are her beliefs?" Celestia replied. "That many around her should die for existing, just as Derpy has said. As a ruler charged with protecting my people, I cannot allow that." Then, she turned back to Aryanne. "Well? What do you have to say for yourself?"

Aryanne rubbed her chin, thinking hard. "Hmm... No deal!" she said. "It is my mission to kill all those who are unfit to live! I cannot renounce that! And I will not be silent among zee pony-garbage! Until my dying breath, I will do everything I can, take every inch, infect every heart, make zem think I am nothing to worry about until it is too late! Nothing less will do!"

"Very well," Celestia said. "Aryanne, I hearby sentence you to death for hate speech and attempted genocide."

The lawyer was sweating, in near-hysterics. "But- but wait! You can't sentence her to death! Then you're just as bad as she is!"

Celestia's lip twitched. She flew down to confront the lawyer. "If there is someone trying to kill you, it is not a crime to defend yourself. Aryanne's intentions are very clear. Either she goes, or we go. She had her chance to give up her ways. But if she will not, then we will remove the threat from among us. After all, as they say, the only good nazi is a dead nazi. Isn't that right?" she asked.

The lawyer drew himself up tall back. "I disagree! You can't just go calling people you don't like nazis! You can't just-"

Suddenly, Celestia punched him square in the face with her hoof, the smack reverberating through the courtroom. "I have had enough of you," she said. "You say you aren't a nazi, and yet you do everything in your power to defend one. You show no concern for the voices of those she hurts. You have no compassion. So let me make this perfectly clear:"

Celestia dragged him up by the collar of his shirt until she was staring him right in the eye. "Stay the buck away from My Little Ponies."

The laywer and the rest of Aryanne's human supporters fled in terror as Aryanne was led away in chains. Luna flew down to join her sister. "What a sad state things have come to," she said. "I can't believe so many people who claim to love us have become so blind to everything we stand for in Equestria."

"Hatred and bigotry will always exist, even among our fair kingdom. But we have done good work today. Not only did we bring a nazi to justice, but we stood up to those who like her, who think she's harmless," Celestia said.

"Yes," Luna nodded. "We have rid a whole courtroom full of nazis."
> Part 15
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And now, it's your turn." Vlad was facing Suri Polomare, who was surprised. "In fact If my memory serves correctly, there was a column in the newspaper saying you were stealing ideas."

"That's right." Suri said, "and it's all Rarity's fault, because of her and friends, I've struggled to make a living, and I vowed that one day I'd get my revenge on her."

"I'd hold off on your vengeance if were you." Vlad warned, "because if you do this, it may come back to get you, and if you don't believe me, you might want to take this into consideration."
> Poetic Justice
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rarity was an absolute genius when it came to the fashion industry, she'd show you what and what not to wear, she'd be very generous to any pony and best of all, every pony seemed to worship the ground she walks on, especially Spike.

However, unbeknownst to Rarity, in one of the top floors of a nearby motel, was her rival, Suri Polomare, ever since she was beaten in the fashion show in Manehattan, she struggled to keep her ship afloat, but it didn't stop there, her former assistant,  Coco Pommel, quit after being inspired by rarity and her friends and she must've told a local news column, because the very next day, word spread that she was stealing designs from other designers, there was a terrible scandal, and Suri had been barred from taking designs from others, thus leaving her in jeopardy, it took her months, but she finally tracked her rival down to ponyville, and during those months, she plotted her vengeance, but came up short when she arrived.

"One way or another Rarity, I will have my revenge." Suri muttered to herself, "you have no idea how much pain I went through, thanks to you and your stupid friends."

And then the idea struck her, it must have been from what she said, she would hurt the innocent little pony, just like she was hurt.

For the next few days, Suri did some recon on Rarity, trying to find some way to hurt her, so far, she learned about her cat, her sister, her boutique in town and some other stuff that I don't feel like telling you.

Once she learned everything she needed... she began her revenge plan.

And so, in the dark of the night, Suri made her way towards the flower shop, she spotted the bouquets of flowers on the stand outside, and with some shears and her somewhat experience in design, she made every single flower look like a cat got them.

And on Monday morning, Rose, Lily and Daisy saw the mess, and proceeded to act like the drama queens they are, and since Suri was new to the town, she wouldn't be recognized by any pony, so it was easy to manipulate the girls.

"It must have been that cat Rarity has." Suri said, "she has got to get rid of that beast, after all, she did this to your flowers, she could do it to all the other flowers in town."

Later, an animal control officer came to Rarity's place, confused, the fashionista went to the door, "can I help you sir."

"Yes, we've got a complaint from 3 ponies, they said your cat messed up their flowers."

It was a sad day for Rarity, when her beloved cat was taken away, despite her pleas that her cat didn't do it, there was nothing she could do.

Little did she know, the worst was yet to come.

On Tuesday, Suri went to see rarity's parents, "I understand that your daughter Sweetie Belle usually stays with her sister."

"Yes, it's usually when we go on vacation."

"Well, that's why I'm here, because this concerns your daughters."

And so, Suri fed a bunch of lies to the girls' parents, such as treating Sweetie Belle like a slave, physical and emotional abuse and a bunch of other stuff I don't want to mention.

Later in the day, Rarity's parents arrived, with angry looks on their faces, and was she dismayed when she learned that she isn't allowed to be near her sister anymore, "and if we ever see you near her again, we'll call the royal guard and have you thrown in the dungeon." Her father warned.

After her parents left, Rarity confined herself in her room, "first my cat and now this." She lamented, "why is this happening to me."

Unbeknownst to her, the answer lay right nearby, watching with a telescope, "breaking down already I see, well watch out Rarity, I've only just begun."

Suri had learned she had gotten engaged to the most handsome pony in town, but had been putting off their wedding for quite some time, this gave her an idea, on Wednesday, knowing that her fiance takes night walks, she disguised herself as Rarity, and went to a random pony's house, "I don't suppose you could let me stay for the night darling." 

Rarity's fiance was taking his walk, once again, Rarity had delayed their wedding, but he stopped dead in his tracks when he noticed the shadow of his fiance and another pony in what appeared to be a rather... compromising position.

Rarity was dismayed to hear from her fiance that the wedding was off, but he didn't give a reason other than that he knew why she was holding off their wedding.

Suri watched the whole scene unfold, but was still determined to ruin the poor mare's life.

Once again in the middle of the night, Suri made her move, but instead of the flower shop, she made her way towards the boutique, she grinned like the grinch when she saw the dresses, silently, she entered, adjusted here, made a few tweaks there, and left the building with satisfaction.

That Thursday morning, a series of wardrobe malfunctions happened in ponyville, any pony that bought one of Rarity's dresses had been exposed, and not in a good way, there was a terrible scandal, and Rarity received a restraining order demanding that she stopped making dresses or other accessories of any kind.

Friday was the worst possible thing to ever happen to Rarity, her friends refused to have anything to do with her, she didn't even know it, but a certain pony told her friends something that made them hate her, but one thing was certain, she wasn't looking forward to the weekend.

Nothing happened on Saturday, but Rarity couldn't relax because she kept waiting for it.

Suri watched the whole scene unfold, but she still wasn't satisfied, because she saved the worst for last, on her desk lay a bunch of cards all addressed to the same place, she flashed her grinch grin again when she looked at them, for tomorrow was hearts and hooves day.

On Sunday, Rarity made her way to the door, clearly upset, but stopped when she noticed, a bunch of letters coming through the mail slot, knowing that today was hearts and hooves day, Rarity felt her joy returning, things seemed to be going her way, so she opened one of them...


noisy are children
Loud as a bell
Pungent is purfume
But you really smell


Rarity was confused by this, it had to be a joke, she opened another one...


a tree is beautiful
If its owner prunes it
But our town isn't
Because your presence ruins it.


Tears started to form in her eyes, but she brought herself to read another...


some ponies live the country
Some ponies live in the town
Why don't you do us a favor
Jump in the river and...


She couldn't bring herself to finish reading it, and broke down crying, all the joy she had was gone, for it was official, the whole world turned against her.

No pony had seen or heard from Rarity in days, and some ponies were starting to feel worried, some felt they went a little too hard on her, but Suri felt no mercy for her, worried, her friends went to check on her, but the door was locked, so they broke it down, and their eyes widened in shock and horror at what they saw.

For right in the middle of the room, hanging by a rope... was Rarity.

When word got out that Rarity killed herself, every pony chipped in to pay for her funeral, at was the least they do could to make up for driving her to do this, there were flowers, a fancy looking coffin, organ music and other things you'd usually find at a funeral, once every pony left, Suri walked up to the grave and sneered down at it.

"Well Rarity, looks like I got what I wanted." She said, "it wasn't what I had in mind, but I'll take what I get, like your ideas, your life, everything you had, after all... it's every pony for themselves." And then she walked away laughing with confidence that she will be back on top of the world.

A full year had passed, but every pony still felt guilty over Rarity's death, and somewhere in town, a bell was ringing, it was midnight, as well as hearts and hooves day.

And somewhere in the cemetery, at certain grave, something strange happened, the ground surrounding the coffin seemed to move, cracks started to form in the ground, until a rotted hoof reached up to the night sky, another followed, and together they pushed until rarity's rotting and decaying head rose from the ground.

Once it was completely out of the grave, it made it's way through town, in the direction of the boutique, some corpses would wonder around, attacking anything on sight, but this one looked as if... it knew where to go.

Suri had waited for a few months, just to make things look good, and when the time was ripe, she moved into Rarity's home, and copied the designs in her book, she thought that since Rarity was dead, no pony would accuse her of stealing.

She was up late with a pile of cards on her desk, and another pile on her bed. The one on her bed were for Rarity's friends, since Suri felt they were partly responsible for ruining her life, she decided to hurt them as well, the other pile was cards she planned to send to some fashion designer she could steal ideas from, or a rich bachelor so she could take their money and buy Rarity's property in Manehattan.

She was about to stamp them, when she heard the door being smashed open, and a foul odor followed soon after, worried some pony was breaking in, she grabbed a blunt object to use as a weapon, she heard hoof steps coming up the stairs, and smell was feeling stronger, the door swung open from the other side, and the stench became much much worse.

In the morning, Flash Sentry and Vlad were sent to investigate the neighbor's claims of a foul smell emanating from the building, as well as the agonizing screaming that was heard by most of the residents, when they entered, they found a notebook detailing all the things that happened to Rarity, as well as the long deceased corpse of Rarity herself, which seemed to be smiling.

Flash went upstairs to investigate, and found Suri slumped in her chair with a look of horror, and what looked like blood all over body, right nearby was a piece of paper, curious, Flash took a look at it...


Happy hearts and hooves day
Your were mean and cruel to me
Right from the start
And now you really
Have no...


Then he noticed a part of the letter was folded up, like it was holding something, curious than ever, he unwrapped it, and screamed in horror.

For inside that folded part of the letter... there lay a bloody heart.
> Part 16
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"So get this is your stubborn skull." Vlad said, "if you go down the path of vengeance, if may come back to bite you, or in your case, tear your heart out of your chest."

"But still, that goody four shoes and her friends cost me my future." Suri said, clearly not moved by the story, "and besides, I bet your just a pathetic jobless bum who just tells stories for kicks, seriously do you think I'm dumb or something."

"Alright, I can see your dead set on this, but when next years hearts and hooves day comes around, don't come crying to me." He then turned to another transient, sitting at table, drinking some Dr. Pepper, he stopped drinking when he noticed vlad looking at him.

"Now, about your death sir..."
> Cause of Death
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two lovers, intertwined.

That’s my first impression. We’re not supposed to have first impressions, but I see what I see and can’t help but jump to conclusions.

I look over at Sarge. “Time of death?”

“Coroner’s not sure.” He rubs a hoof across his muzzle. “We know that she checked in to the motel around sundown last night, so it can’t be before that.”

I nod, and look around the room. Nothing looks out of place, and now the little details that were just at the periphery of my mind come into focus. She hasn’t got a suitcase, nor does he. Add in that the motel’s kind of seedy, and I have a working theory of what happened here.

I have to remind myself that it’s only a working theory, and the evidence might contradict it later.

“I’m going to talk to the maid.” She’s not in the room; she’s down the hall in an empty room. It’d be cruel to keep her in the room, to keep her around the bodies.

“Three doors down,” Sarge tells me.

I nod.

That room is essentially the same as the crime scene, although obviously without two dead bodies. Jealous spouse? Robbery gone wrong? That could explain the lack of luggage.

The maid’s face is still damp from crying. I put a reassuring hoof around her shoulder and commence to questioning.

She doesn’t provide any new information. She was going to go in to clean the room, she knocked, nopony answered, she opened the door and saw them. She denied even going into the room; she’d pulled the door shut as soon as she’d seen and gone to report to her manager. Paramedics had been called, but there was nothing they could do, and they’d left the scene to us.

I give her a reassuring hug and walk back to the crime scene, staying out of the way of the evidence techs. I stay until the bodies are carted out, bound for the morgue.


•••


“It wasn't accidental.”

“Go on, Bones.” We all call him that.

“You see right here, there’s some bruising under the fur? That’s a sign of a struggle. And she’s missing a shoe.”

I frown. I hadn’t noticed that at the crime scene. “Nopony found one.”

“And look here.” He brushes aside some of her fur. Almost lovingly, even though she was far beyond feeling. “Scrapes. This is the biggest one, but not the only one. I combed some gravel out and there was a bit of dried blood, too.”

“If you were going to spend a night with your lover, you’d comb your fur first.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you think she was killed somewhere else and left there?”

Bones holds up a hoof. “Whoa, you do the thinking on that, sport. I just tell you what I see on the bodies.”

“Thanks.”


•••


The stallion sitting in the interrogation room is nervous, so I bring him a cup of coffee. It trembles in his aura as he brings it to his lips.

“I don’t want no trouble.”

“Tell me what you know.” My recorder’s activated by a hoof button; later on, I can review his testimony.

“I seen her outside the Ponyazzo, just pacing around in front of the entrance.”

“You seen her before?”

“No.”

“She a prostitute?”

He shrugs “Probably. Boss tries to move ‘em along, but I hadn’t got no orders yet.”

I nod. That ruled out her being a high-roller or celeb. He would have recognized her.

“And then?”

“A fight. I didn’t see all of it, but some stallion got in her face and started yelling and the two of them went around back.”

“Him?”

Mortuary photographs are never flattering, and this one was no exception.

The stallion nods nervously. “Once they went around back they was none of my business anymore, but—” he takes a sip of his coffee “—I heard her voice cut off all sudden-like.”

“And that’s it?”

“Musta been five, ten minutes after the two of them left the front entrance.”


•••


It’s a reasonable working hypothesis that he’d killed her and then dragged her back to her hotel room. The timeline works for them fighting, her going to the casino with him following later, and if they were arguing he might even have a motive. Other evidence doesn’t add up, and if he had been the murderer, why would he have taken her body back to the hotel room? Why would he have joined her there? Why not just dump the body and be done with it?

I don’t like it.


•••


“Both forelegs broken?”

Bones moves the fur aside on his neck. “And then strangled. Poor guy was really worked over.”

“There’s no way he could have dragged her to the hotel.”

“Not in that condition, no. He was probably dead before she was.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“Completely.”


•••


This time, I don’t bring the guard stallion coffee. Before he can lie again, I just toss the coroner’s report in front of him.

“Awful hard to walk with two broken forelegs,” I remark. “You want to know what I think?”

His eyes are wide—he’s been caught.

“I think that our stallion owed Gladmane an awful lot of bits, and I think that somepony worked him over. I think that it went too far, and I think that somepony accidentally killed him, and now there was a problem. This sounding familiar so far?”

“I don’t know nothing about that.”

“Maybe you do and maybe you don’t. Who told you to lie?”

He gives me a name.


•••


The prosecution’s got an open and shut case, and it doesn’t take very long for the jury to return their verdict, nor for the judge to sentence him to death. I should feel satisfaction, but as I sit in my study sipping a tumbler of whiskey, I can’t get the face of the mare out of my mind, and I can’t help but wonder if there’s more to the case than I knew.
> Part 17
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Two ponies were getting a little freaked out by this strange pony, especially since his stories involved death, but one of them couldn't shake the feeling that this pony was hiding something.

"You know, if there's one thing I despise, it's cheating on those you love." Vlad said, "In fact that's what you two did." He was facing the two ponies, "to clear things up for you, we'll start this tale at the seemingly most innocent, and unlikely of places..."
> The Messy Recipe of Orange Spice
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Knock
Knock
Knock

“Hey… Granny? I wondered if I could ask you ta--”

“Apple Bloom! What’d I tell you ‘bout botherin’ Granny?!”

“But I just wanna ask her--”

“Not today, Sugarcube. Not today. Come on, it’s ‘bout time you get a leg up on them chores.”

“Awww Applejack!”

Heh. Applejack does her best, she does. Tain’t an easy thing to reign in a filly like Apple Bloom, though. Once that whipper snapper gets somethin’ in her mind she’s a force to be reckoned with, no matter the consequences. Sure, any other day of the year, I'm happy to lend a hoof or an ear, but not today.

Ya know, it’s a funny thing being an old grey mare, ya forget silly little things like what kinda apple jam you had fer breakfast, or the name of that strange orange youngin’ that follows whipper snapper around… Chicken... Loo? Somethin’ like that. But ya think about years past and it comes in with crystal clarity.

Everypony knows the story of how me ‘n my family started this here town of Ponyville. We were heralded as heroes back in the day for our Zap Apples and the jam they made. You could say I was something of a celebrity back then. You shoulda seen the way my pah puffed out his chest and told the story of my discovery, ‘That’s MY daughter’ he’d say, probably the proudest moment of my young life. ‘Course, ya can’t live forever on fame, not when there’s work to be done. It did give the Apple family their chance in the spotlight, though. Pretty soon all them high-falootin’ ponies recognized us as a valuable family ‘cuz we had something they wanted. We had every opportunity knockin’ at our door, but the one my pah decided to answer went by the name of Orange.

Now, it’s no secret that the fruit families don’t rightly get along much, too much competition ya see, but back then we Apples knew how to play the game. Ya had to pretend to be nice, civil and the like, since a lot of those families had good farm land and resources up for grabs. It weren’t an uncommon occurrence for families to arrange marriages between their houses for that very reason. T’was more like a transaction than a relationship, but I knew my pah meant business when he paired me up with that Orange colt, and I didn’t dare cross him.

Orange Dream was his name, and I gotta say, he sure lived up to it. Tall, he was, with a cream-colored mane and a coat a softly falling sunset. Once again, I was the talk of the town. How I loved paradin’ my beau up and down town square, watchin’ all those fillies fall over themselves wishin’ they was me.

Hoo-Eee it was a hoot and a holler, I tell ya! I’d come home and laugh ‘bout it with mah sister, Apple Spice. She ‘n I loved gabbin’ ‘bout all them city ponies what moved to our neck of the woods. Not a single one of ‘em knew what it meant to be a hard workin’ country pony, but it sure was fun to watch ‘em try.

What was I talkin’ ‘bout again? Oh yeah. Orange Dream. Well, the ceremony was quite extravagant, a little too much for my taste, but them Oranges were always all about their high-falootin’ status. I often wondered what they got outta the match, Orange Dream and I. In the end it was probably money; something the Apples weren’t used to havin’ and the oranges weren’t used to being without. We were a blue-ribbon couple: the famous Zap Apple Farmer and the handsome city bachelor. Why, with all the buzz about us, the news of our first-born would reach all the way up to the Princess.

Or at least… it would have. I’d never seen something so small. It never even took a breath. I wasn't one to shy away from a good cry but… all I could do was sit ‘n stare. I don’t think I ate or drank anything for a week after. Dream was understandin’, though, and I appreciated him for that. We lost it early enough that not many ponies ever knew I was with child to begin with. After a bit of time passed, we gave it another go. I was so sure this one would stick… I was fit as a fiddle every day until it happened. Maybe that’s why he didn’t take this loss as well as the first. We would start hollerin’ at each other, pointing hooves and placing blame. Truth was, neither of us knew what was wrong, we just knew how much it hurt.

I needed some time after the second one. I couldn’t keep pushin’ my body to do somethin’ it just wasn’t ready to do. Dream would go on and on about how his reputation was hangin’ in the balance and how he needed a colt to prove himself as a stallion or some nonsense. I couldn’t stand him when he’d get like that, so I’d pour myself into my work and ignore ‘im.

Well, after about a year went by, I decided it was time to swallow my pride and give it another go. Truth was, I wanted to be a mah just as badly as he wanted to be a pah. I remember confiding in mah sis, Apple Spice, about how I was feelin’ and how Orange Dream was becoming more like an Orange Nightmare, when she broke down sobbin’. She starts wailing on about this, that, and the other, and how she’s a terrible pony and made a terrible mistake. I didn’t know WHAT that mare was gettin’ on about until I saw her belly protrudin’ out more than usual. ‘I love ‘im! I’m sorry! He came onto me, and I just couldn’t say no!’ No harsher words ever existed that are harder for a sister to swallow than those.

We Apples threw Spice out for that, and Dream threw himself at our mercy. In the end, all was forgiven; to them at least. Seemed like my family didn’t bat an eye to his infidelity. They needed him, you see, he was too important to shirk off like their own kin. I realized that I was still expected to make it work with that spineless fool, Celestia knows how. Dream used to say that he went ‘round defaming my sister as a harlot to explain away the pregnancy so as to not cast doubt on ‘us’ and how we were such a ‘strong couple.’

But what does any of this useless prattle have to do with today? Well, all that nonsene took its toll, ya see, and when ya keep yer emotions all bottled up like bubbly cider, they’re bound to explode. I was comin’ home from the market one day when I heard Dream ‘n Spice talkin’ in the barn. Now, mind you, I hadn’t seen my sister for weeks and I knew right then it wasn’t going to be a pleasurable reunion. I stormed right up to the barn, every intention of screamin’ t high heaven, when I saw something I wish I hadn’t. There he was, looking up at me like he didn’t have a care in the world, this little new-born colt with a smile that could melt your heart. Dream had a son now, and I knew that I’d lose everything: status, reputation, even my own home. I was scared!

I don’t know what compelled my actions after that. Some part of my brain was screamin’ for me to stop doin’ what I was doin’, but my hooves just kept me goin’ forward. Ya see, I knew that that ole barn was already fallin’ apart. We were set to destroy it soon and raise a new one, so we had left it in disrepair. There were two levels, and the upper one had all our bales of hay jammed together and held aloft. I knew exactly which wood beam was load-bearin’, so, I picked myself up an axe and I just started hackin’. Ya know what? I don’t think I even cared whether or not I lived or died, I just kept hackin’ away. I was a hard-working mare so I made an easy job of it. The beam splintered and the hay bales came tumblin’ down. In that moment, I resolved to stay put and let the chips fall where they may, but I looked up at that sweet ‘lil innocent face and gawl-darn it I had a change of heart. I raced for ‘im and skirted out by the skin of my teeth. The whole d
barn came crashing down, even broke my leg on the way out, but that little one, my Bright Mac, was safe, and that’s all that mattered.

So here I am, all these years later, wrestling with the memory of that day and trying not to let my grandchildren see me smilin’. Usually I lock myself up here in my room so I can muse about it without suspicion. In a couple of minutes, I’ll have to shut that memory back in a drawer somewhere in my mind and wipe this smile off my face. But fer now, I can reminisce in the memory of their screams.
> Part 18
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"And what are you're plans for today." Vlad said to a griffon that happened to be next to the two ponies.

"Well, I'm on my way to Las Pegasus, I've got a special performance planned there, I'm going to be buried in a coffin and be released by tomorrow morning."

"I don't think that's wise, you see, sometimes we overlook small details, which plays a key role in your little death..."
> Dig that cat... He's real gone
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

A lot of ponies, griffins, changelings and other creatures gathered around a little hole in the ground at the Las Pegasus resort, normally a hole in the ground wouldn't mean a thing, but this time it's a special performance. For today, a griffon known by all as Ulric the undying is performing his latest stunt. Also on the scene were a bunch of news reporters wanting a scoop on the latest stunt.
"I'm standing here at Las Pegasus where today, where in due time, the legendary Ulric the undying will perform what he considers to be the greatest performance of his life: he's going to be buried in a coffin 10 feet underground, and he won't be released until tomorrow morning, Ulric is going to be here shortly, but in the meantime let's get a bird's eye view with our co-anchor Ollie, how are things looking up there Ollie."

"EVERYCREATURE LOOKS LIKE ANTS!!!"

"Probably because you're up so high, now until Ulric gets here, let's talk about the virtues of... what's that... oh, oh! He's here, ladies and gentlemen, Ulric the undying is here."

A black limousine pulled up, and pretty soon, Ulric stepped out and waved to the gathered crowd as he made his way towards a small coffin and climbed in, the lid slammed shut and started to slowly lower itself into the hole.

"This is gonna be great." Ulric said to himself, "after this performance, I'll be on my last life, and it'll pay me big time."

Ulric started to think back to before he became a celebrity, "I remember how it all began, back when I was an average bum on a bench." He said, as his thoughts went back to that fateful day that started it all.





On the streets of Griffonstone, a pony in what looked like a lab coat walked down the dark streets, by the way he was looking, you'd swear it seemed like he was looking for an easy victim.

Up ahead of him was a griffon, lying on a bench, looking like an average bum, unshaven beard and all, this got his attention, and he cautiously approached the griffon, he knew how griffons get when they get a rude awakening.

"Hey you."

The griffon woke up with a start, and saw the pony standing in front of him, annoyed by his presence, he asked, "what do you want."

"I want to have a word with you." He said ominously.





Pretty soon the two were at a little bar in town, where the griffon drank what he could afford, while the pony was talking to him.

"My name is Dr. Emil Manfred." He said, introducing himself, "I came here from ponyville looking for an unfortunate creature like you for a little experiment."

Still annoyed, but curious, the griffon asked, "what kind of experiment."





The two were soon on a train back to ponyville, where emil explained his experiment, "there's an old rumor about the common cat, they say they've got 9 lives, well last week I believe I have discovered the cats little secret to having said lives."

Still confused, the griffon asked, "what does this have to do with me?"





"Well, you're gonna help me with my experiment." The doc said when they arrived at the lab, the griffon saw what was on the slab, Emil shivered with anticipation, or maybe it was the rain that was really to blame.

"The cat has a special little gland, that's where it gets it's lives, but with a little spell I found, you'll be able to have said lives.", the griffon was feeling nervous at this point, but he didn't have much of a choice, after all, what did he have to lose, he laid down on the slab next to the unfortunate cat.

"By the way, this may sting a little."

"Wait, WHAT?!"

"I honestly don't know what happened next, either it was from the nervousness or it was the effects of the spell, but either way, I blacked out, and when I came to, the doc was standing over me."

The griffon looked at dr. Manfred in confusion, aside from a slight headache, he didn't feel any different, "did it work?"

"It worked my friend." Emil said, "you now have the nine lives of a cat."

The griffon looked at the other slab, and sure enough, there was the cat, dead as a doornail, after all, it no longer has any lives left.

"Are you sure it worked, I mean, how can we know for sure that I've got 9 lives?"

Emil reached into his coat pocket, "well a gunshot from this range would kill you." He pulled out a gun, and before the griffon could react, the doc fired the gun at him.

"the pain from the bullet was unbearable, and I'm not sure it was that or all those drinks I had, but either way, I blacked out again."

Dr. Manfred waited a few seconds, and pretty soon, the griffon jumped up screaming, "WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!!!" he shouted, "YOU COULD HAVE KILLED ME!!!"

"But I did kill you my friend." The doc explained, "you're currently on your second life, but we'll waste no more, your lives are going to make us rich."

The griffon smiled at the notion of gaining a fortune, of course, he'll have to die for it, but it would be worth it in the long run.

"it took us a while to think of stage names, I don'tremember what the others were, but we eventually settled on Ulric the undying, and we got our first gig in las Pegasus."

"Look pal, I don't mean to sound rude, but I'm not hiring another escape artist, last time I did, he escaped with the box office money and my wife." Said the owner of the resort, his name was quick buck, he owned a hotel that was a little rundown and true to his name, he's looking for a high paying act that could make him rich and improve his little resort.

"I'm afraid you're wrong sir." Emil said, "Ulric doesn't escape, he dies, only to come back to life again, if you sign us now, I can guarantee that you'll be able to have a packed hotel by the time spring break rolls around."

Quick buck seemed to consider this rather odd act, "are you sure he can come back."

"Oh yes, I guarantee it."

"Alright, I'll give him a try." He said, "at this point, I'm pretty desperate to find something to draw in the tourists."

"that sucker, he was willing to pay us just to get us do our shows, by the next day, we had our first show."

The first show didn't have much viewers, just a Griffon, a Yak, a dragon, a changeling, a hippogriff, and a pony. They were standing outside the hotel, where the show was going to take place today.

"Come one, come all, the greatest show ever performed at this hotel." Quick buck announced through a loudspeaker, "today, our very own Ulric the undying will jump of the roof of our building, without a parachute or using his wings, and land on the target below." He turned to the roof of the building, "ready Ulric?"

He got his answer when Ulric jumped off the roof and started plummeting towards the ground, catching the attention of other tourists that were nearby.

Suddenly, a FedEx truck pulled up, and parked directly on the target, "I got a delivery for a mr. Quick buck."

Ulric landed directly onto the back of the truck, smashing through the top in the process. This shocked the crowd, but quick buck went over to the truck, opened the back, and dragged the body out. After all, the show must go on.

"Don't go away folks, because in a few moments you'll be a witness to his resurrection."

As if on cue, Ulric snapped back to reality, and greeted the shocked crowd, which started to applaud.

"I gotta admit, I didn't think I'd be a success, but I did, soon enough, I became an instant sensation."

"Today fillies and gentlecratures, Ulric the undying will show you what happens when you do the dirty deed in a country like this."

Ulric was strapped to a small tabletop, with some shots laying nearby, for today's show he was pretending to be a death row prisoner sentenced to death by fatal injection. But since they couldn't afford the fancy technology used for these things, they went for the next best thing: a fatal amount of adrenaline.

"We originally planned to use the old guillotine, but I wasn't sure about that. I mean, if my head got cut off, would I still come back? Fortunately the doc came up with the fatal injection shtick, and just in time too."

When Quick buck finally wrapped up his speech, he gave a signal to a hired hand named Shelly, who walked onto the stage and started injecting the drug into Ulric's bloodstream. 

"the show was jammed packed with all types of creatures, I knew this was going to pay me plenty."

After the performance, Emil started to count the money, took a small chunk from the pile, and handed it to Ulric, "here's your share Ulric, it should be at least twenty eight grand."

"Great thanks." Ulric said in a calm way, when Manfred left, he started shouting garbage, smashed his glass of cider on the ground and kicked over the chair he was in.

"I had to play it cool in front of the doc. After all, I took a bullet to the brain, jumped off a building and took a serious amount of drugs, but he still had a lion's share. I decided it was time to boost my profits, I had to wait for the perfect moment."

In the middle of the night, a black sedan drove through the abandoned streets, with Emil  completely unaware of what Ulric had planned. "This is going great my friend, we're going to be rich."

"Correction, I'm going to be rich."

Emil was confused by his wording, until he noticed that they were speeding up, "Ulric, what are you doing?!"

"I'm making a little investment doc: 100% of our show's profits."

Emil noticed that they were heading for a brick wall, at the speed they were going, it would seriously kill a creature.

"You know, they wouldn't accuse me of murder, after all I'm the one with five lives left."

Just before they hit the building, Ulric noticed something off about the doc, he didn't seem to be afraid that he was going to die, in fact he seemed to smile and the moment they hit the building... he laughed.

"I was confused by his odd behavior, I mean who smiles and laughs when they're about to die. Fortunately I recovered before the authorities arrived, and by the next morning I cleared of any wrongdoings."

After the doc's 'untimely death', Ulric returned to his performance, this time he was strapped to a spinning target.

"And now, after all these days after his friend's death, Ulric the undying, with help from his assistant Shelly, will be strapped to this target, and will have these throwing knives thrown at him."

Once everything seemed to be in order, Shelly walked over to the small table where the knives were, and started to throw them but missed by the slightest inch, she did this on purpose just to build tension.

Once she ran out of knives, she reached underneath the table and pulled out a large axe, she threw it, but unlike the knives, it struck Ulric right in the heart.

A few seconds later, the target stopped spinning, and Shelly started to remove the knives and the now bloody axe, then she loosened the straps, sending Ulric tumbling to the floor.

Everyone waited and watched and waited and watched... but Ulric didn't get up.

"SHE DID IT!!! Fillies and gentlecratures, Shelly has been the first to kill Ulric the undying!" Quick buck said, attempting to play along with the charade, while discreetly kicking the body, trying to get him to move.

"That was one thing I didn't count on. Some resurrections took longer than others. I just lucky I woke up just before they could do anything."

A few days after Ulric's official death, his body was sent to a morgue that vlad worked in, he passed body bags labeled 'Eddie', 'Columbia', 'Frank' and 'Rocky', finally he stopped at a bag labeled 'Ulric', unzipped it, and made the necessary preparations to draw the blood.

But before he draw even one drop, Ulric suddenly jumped up screaming, and then noticed he wasn't at the resort, "where am I?" He asked.

"That must've been the reason why he acted like a lunatic, he thought they'd embalm me and I couldn't come back, I don't know if I could back from that,  but I didn't want to risk, so Shelly hired a friend of hers named Alfred."

"Now remember, if I die, you bring my body back here." Ulric reminded Alfred before the show began, this time he was on a stretch rack of sorts.

Quick buck gave the signal, and Shelly started to turn the crank. Ulric felt his limbs being stretched, his tendons snapped, and his bones breaking as they were stretched out.

"That had to be the most painful one of them all, but I worked through the pain. After I healed, I started to count the money from the show."

"Look at this." Ulric said, counting there should be enough money to pay for a vacation home in Kokomo."

He was so busy counting, that he never noticed Alfred taking a knife out, until he felt it enter his back. He instantly collapsed to the floor, while a door opened and Shelly walked in.

"Ulric, this is my fiance Eric." Shelly said, motioned to who Ulric thought was named Alfred, "he's a master of death just like you, aren't you baby."

The two went in for a kiss, right in front of Ulric, then Shelly started talking again.

"Unlike you however, he doesn't need nine lives, he was just born with it."

"We haven't made any arrangements yet." Eric said, "But with just a little bit of money."

"Your money." Shelly added.

"I think we'll have a great opening act in no time, so long Ulric."

The two thieves walked out the door, and closed it just as Ulric came back, even though he was dead, he heard everything, and was he mad.

"Those cheats took all the from my shows, the next time I see those two,  I'm sending them on a permanent vacation, but first things first, I had to get my money back."

"You want WHAT!!!"

"You heard me." Ulric said, "I want everything, the profits from the show, the money from the resort, everything. "

Quick  buck was shocked by this, "This is highway robbery."

"Well you can take it or leave it." He warned, "This place was nothing until you met me, now come on pal what will it be: give me the money, or I walk."

Angry but knowing he has a point, Quick Buck sighed and said "I don't know how you live with yourself."





"He's lucky I didn't charge him for the ownership" Ulric said, "But still, I'm going to be rich." A sudden thought came to his head, "But why stop there, when I could get more cats, and get their lives, after all, it all started with that cat, shame it. had.. to..."

Ulric suddenly thought of the axe to the heart and adrenaline.

"Wait a minute..."

He thought of the gunshot and the stabbing.

"The cat had to die so I could get its..."

He thought of the car crash and the jump off the building.

"OH MY CELESTIA!"

He thought of the ever painful stretch rack, and the cat... lying dead on the slab.

"THAT'S WHY THE DOC LAUGHED... I ONLY HAVE EIGHT LIVES!"

All of the confidence Ulric had left him, fear quickly replaced it as he desperately banged on the  top of  the  coffin.

"HEY, SOMECREATURE HELP ME, PLEASE..."

"well folks, it's been almost an hour, his oxygen is almost gone, but we're still going to wait until tomorrow to see if Ulric will return once more, or if he'll really bite the big one, until then, this is Tom Tucker, singing off.

Ulric heard the steps and the sound of cars starting, and knocking because more desperate.

"NO PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME, I'LL  DIE, I'M NOT KIDDING, SOMECREATURE PLEASE... 


LET ME OOOOOOUUUUUUTTTT...

"

Unbeknownst to the others, a black cat watched the scene unfold, as soon as every creature left, it walked over to where the coffin was buried and sat down, and if you ever saw that cat...


You'd swear it seemed to be smiling

> Part 19
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I gotta admit, there's so many folks out there committing sins, so it's only fair that they got what they deserve." Vlad mused as a pony next to him watched in concern, and he felt his eyes turn to face him, "And speaking of getting what you deserve."

"Look I hate to interrupt your little macabre party, but you're starting to scare me." The pony said, "and that's saying something, I'm supposed to be in a battle against a different griffon nation, most of you are okay." He said to the griffons that were in the cafe, mostly because he wanted to avoid facing their wrath.

"While it it is a honor to fight for your country, that little war of wars is going to be the cause of your death, all thanks to one griffon..."
> The Red Vengeance
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the sewers, we hid, out of the sight of the Lake City forces that had conquered the city just over a week ago. Grover II, who had only seven years ago defeated Gabriella Eagleclaw and united the Herzlands, was nowhere to be seen after the battle and we could only hope he had escaped the carnage. I was one of the Knights of Arcturius, Otto van Beakmarck, and I had failed my one job. PROTECT THE KAISER. I smashed my head into the wall, as hard as I could, into the dent I had made from all of these rammings.

“OI!” A voice got my attention. “Otto, it aint time fer crammin anymore! We got tha barstard’s plans and Ebonwing given us tha sign we want!” I looked up in shock. Ebonwing had claimed any attempted liberation without Imperial support would be uselesss. But something had changed the old griff’s mind. I looked at the messenger. My long time friend Wilhelm Wiedergriff. He was the captain of the Yalish guard, and together we often joked he was descended from Borean himself.

I reached out and took his claws, uttering, “Well bout time we did something. I’ve nearly smashed me head flat in boredom!” He led me to a place we all knew, the Panic Room. It was a small hall underneath the Palace of Griffinheim, as a bunker where the Kaiser could hide and from there, escape swiftly to the County of Bronzehill. But of right now, it was the headquarters of the Griffinheim Liberation Army, or GLA. Nogriff knew why we chose that name, there already being a GLA down south, but hey, they couldn’t do nothing.

“Alright listen up, ya lazy rags!” Erich Ebonwing’s loud voice echoed throughout the chamber, to the ninety four thousand odd griffons crammed into the hall and the adjoining tunnels. “Boreas ‘imself appaears to be with us, as earlier this mornin’ I got a gift from tha Diamond Dogs. “ He raised a contraption, a few wires coming out of a silver box the size of my fist. Engraved on the side was a skull and crossbones. “Three dozen of these beauties. Concession charges, powerful enough to knock down a panzer in one blast.” We gasped, as one. How Ignatius was able to spare so many, we didn’t have any idea. Perhaps Boreas himself had given them to them. “And ter further add to our blessin’s, Heavenly Snow himself, is gonna be comin over fer tha coronation at sundown today. If we can knock his block off, then we can call this li’l clash a victory. Ok, here’s how it goes down.” He wheeled over a chalkboard with a map of Griffinheim pinned to it. “We’s gonna fracture into three groups. Group A, yer job is seize control of tha Greifwagen Industrials HQ here,” He stabbed a part of the map with a dagger before continuing, “Group B, get a hold on Grover V Station to call somegriff to help, I’d wager even that southern bastard Beakolini would aid us against our ancestral enemy,” He put another dagger into the board, before finishing, “And finally, Group C, yer job is to take back the Wiedergriff Airport fer their fighter and bomber surplus to get in the air. Then, we can unite ter stomp these pony thieves outta the Herzlands. BUT!” His voice echoed like a whip, startling everygriff to attention. “There is another matter, where these come in.” He waved the charges in the air. “When Snow is inaugurated and sworn in, he must do it in Boreas’ presence. He will journey to the temple here.” His last dagger was flung into the map, next to the palace.

I gasped and uttered, “You mean…”

Erich got wind of it and confirmed my fears. “Yes. We gonna blow it up.” This caused a massive collective gasp from the horde of assembled partisians. The temple had been built during Grover I’s regime and had stood since from the plains around. Even when Grover had led Yale to take it back, he had demanded no damage was to be done to it on threat of death. To destroy it would mean destroying our history. “I know what y’all are thinking. I’m mad. But this is war. And a PONY is aboud to sit on THE GRIFFINHEIM THRONE! You morons figure out which one is worse. Some complete MADPONY sitting on OUR throne and declaring himself KAISER of GRIFFONIA or a little piece of our history that’ll probably be destroyed by said PONY KAISER!”

When he put it like that nogriff had any complaints. He then raised his rifle and screamed, “FUR KAISER UNT VATERLAND!” Everygriff echoed the cry, raising ther battered service rifles, shaking the piping and rafters with the warcry. I raised my minigun, a trophy taken from a fallen Imperial Fighter and remodified to be handheld, and echoed the cry. Immediately we fell out, to go to the areas Ebonwing had pointed out on the map.





Half an hour later, I was waiting under the Greifswagen Industries HQ for the signal we needed, an armed force of thirty thousand griffs behind me, the remains of the Imperial Panzerkorps and Engineerkorps, whoever could run a tank well. I could feel the tension in the air. Nogriff spoke, but it was there. We were outnumbered heavily. When they had fought us in the streets the first time, they had used over 2 million ponies to charge our lines, and they could have brought reinforcements since then. They had the advantage of the entire Heavenly Airforce behind them alongside the entire RIVERLANDS. But we had a knowledge of every back street and pass in this town, a memory of how to get around without using the main roads. Yet it was a massive chance. These events almost always failed. The Republican uprising in Aquilea had been stamped out by the Discret family easily, the Olenian Freedom Army had been crushed within hours, and Rosewing and Sunglider’s bandit uprising was halted in its tracks by Alex Kemesari. We could just end a footnote in the Historica Griffonia, as another failed stand of a horde of madgriffs, torn asunder by the new Chosen of Boreas. A buzzing on the radio disagreed. I grabbed the receiver and said, “Squad A primed, commander.”

Over the static, I heard Ebonwing grunt and call, “Orright, Otto, ya got permission. Give ‘em tartarus fer me.”

I saluted and yelled, “TEN HUT GRIFFONS, WE MOVIN OUT NOW! SHOW THEM PONES WHY WE SCOURGED THEM IN THE CRUSADES! SHOW THEM THE GRIFFONIAN FURY!” I evoked a resounding roar from the horde, a good sign of a blood hungry mob. I spread my wings and shot out through the maintenance shaft. And boy, did I pick a bad time. I ploughed straight into a group of riverpony guards, and they were shocked. Before they could speak, I had my gun revving up and a storm of lead ripping them to pieces. I tore though my belt until they were entirely minced before me before calling, “CLEAR!” Hearing my signal, the rest of the soldiers clambered out the shaft, Wilhelm at the head. Spreading out like water in a pot, they scattered to assert dominance over the street front while most entered the Greifswagen Industrial to scrounge whatever they could get. I stayed outside, to make sure noponies could sneak upon us. Suddenly, machine gun blasts disturbed the peace, split by Hertzlander war cries. We’d engaged the foe successfully. Now we just had to finish the blow. Suddenly, Wilhelm yelled, “Oh holy BOREAS LOOK AT THIS!”

I called back, “What is it?”

He responded, “SO. MANY. TANKS!”
I smiled in joy. We had the big guns now.
A few moments later, we had our panzers up and running again, hundreds of them, older models and experimental panzers side by side, even the bashed up rust bucket Grover VI had crashed all those years ago. We were ready.

I climbed atop one of the heavy tanks and pointed forwards, and screamed, “NOW FIGHT!”

And ten thousand panzers reared up for war. Immediately, that caused far too much unwanted attention. A corp of ponies rounded the corner, rifles at the ready, but they did not expect the return of the Imperial armoured corps. Immediately and hopelessly, they opened fire on us. And so three of ours fired back, devouring them in a corona of flame. I heard the exhilaration of being inside a panzer from so many of the corps. Now we had to ride to Grover V Station to aid Group B, at the end of the Kaiserstraße and our main road. I pointed and commanded, “ON TO GROVER V STATION!” The moment we rounded the corner, we realised our shells had not gone unnoticed. A platoon of ponies had prepared a motorised anti tank gun and was ready for our advance. Instantly, the shell inside was catapulted straight down the line towards us. I had enough time to jump as the shell made contact with the tank I had been atop. Immediately, all the griffons inside were incinerated by the fury of the blast. I hit the cobbles hard, part of my wing snapping and my leg getting slashed by the shards of a destroyed window. Staggering to my claws, I hefted my gun to fire, but was met by a ready barrage of lead from a machine gun beside the anti tank gun. Swearing, I ducked around the corner to out wait them. The moment the gunners changed their angle of fire, I leaped out, gun spaying death at their entrenchment. I saw three of their gunners get torn by my barrage, falling with crimson rupturing from their heads, and more skinned and marked by them. My blast a distraction, one of the tanks used it to blast their big gun to annihilate it. I watched as burning, screaming ponies scattered from the fortifications, feeling cold joy as they stopped running, the flames cutting their petty screams short. Schadenfreule, the Cloudburians called this joy of a foe’s demise. Now I leaped atop the battered tank Grover crashed, and called, “ADVANCE!” Once more, we charged on, following the Äußerestraße towards the Station. Then I heard the noise we dreaded, the sound of roaring engines that only fighters or bombers had. I said, “Unknown aircraft approaching griffs, be on guard.” Then they passed over the buildings and we saw what we feared. The Lake City insignia on the underside. They opened fire on our brigade, none of us bringing anything to fend them off. So I decided to do what would carve my name as one of history’s most insane griffons.

Spreading my wings, I leaped up. Since they flew at such low altitude, it took only two flaps to launch me to their height. The lead fighter had little time to gasp as I landed on his windshield, minigun revved up. Instantly, his rear gunner tried to move against me, but I had my gun firing already. The pilot went down fast, bullets tearing him apart, followed by the gunner. Now I stood further up as the plane began to dive without a pilot, aiming at the other pilots’ proppelers. They all fired at me, and it was a race between lead. Mine began to impact first, causing the bomber to explode and dive towards the buildings. Then two flanking fighters took the storm to the front, erupting in flames. Then it was my turn to face the onslaught. I ducked, to minimize the number of bullets that collided with me. They all pinged overhead, some glancing off the spiked helmet and one clipping shoulder. Standing up, I lept of the failing plane, landing on a several story house to observe the carnage around the city. The fighter battle hadn’t taken me very far, I could still see the Äußerestraße where Wilhelm was leading the tanks around towards the besieged station. I then turned towards the hill where the Palace of Griffinheim stood. All around it, was carnage. Apparently not every team focused on seizing the airport or station, or other partisans had seen a battle and decided to fling themselves into the fray. The manors lining the Kaiserstraße were aflame, and planes were arcing slowly around the hill, occasionally bursting volleys of gunfire on unfortunate soldiers below. Columns of smoke rose all over town, and some actual fires leaped across building roofs in some spots. The forces upon the Griffking had blasted a bridge to pieces and I could see forces converging on another one. Tanks had been dispatched from the central to attempt to force our partisans from the center of town, but from the specks running to and fro, I could assume they were doing pathetically. Now I decided to lead the main goal, bringing down the temple of Boreas on Heavenly Snow. I leaped down, and stupidly landed on another Lake City group. They took far too little time to notice me, meaning I couldn’t ready my gun. So I went to plan B. “It’s the one who nearly killed Westerly! The KNIGHT!” The captain screamed, waving his hoof at me. I drew a greatsword, freshly sharpened and readied it. The captain stifled a laugh and snickered, “A SWORD!? What’s he gonna do against guns? POKE-” Suddenly, his head rolled off his neck, a clean split through his neck as I lowered my sword. They stood there in shock for a moment before opening fire on me.

I thought, “Sword-fighting, don’t fail me now.” I felt bullets rip my shoulder and chest, each accompanied with a flare of pain. But the adrenaline coursing though my body blunted the agony as I swung. The first hack cut a deep hack through a young mare’s chest, killing him instantly. Another bullet pierced my leg, causing me to tip. “Shoot.” I thought as I hit the ground hard, and the ponies advanced for the kill. But I never was going to die without a fight. Again, I lashed towards them, cutting two hooves off and skinning a third. Then a lucky snipe hit me, zooming under my helmet and straight into my left eye. I had enough time to utter, “Ah. No.” before the pain hit me. It slammed into me like a heavy tank, causing me to spasm and wracking my good eye. Carving on through the blindness, I lashed out at everything that I could vaguely see with my good eye. Everything was doused in red, dark crimson blotches marking the presence of something else. As I swung and slashed, shape after shape collapsed, until another something entered and shot the further away ones dead.

As my adrenaline burned away, I heard a famillar voice, that of Ebonwing. “Oh my, he’s taken a nasty one to the eye! Medic, MEDIC!”





For the next hour, I tilted between conciousness and unconcious, seeing griffs rushing around me and occasionally injecting me with something. Eventually, somegriff waved smelling salts at me, and I bolted upright. I felt bad, still burned out, and now half my world was black as Maar’s embrace. I looked around and saw a medic, Rector Mikusian in her torn robes, and Ebonwing, yelling into a radio. I then remembered my job. I sat up and screamed, “CHARGES!”
Ebonwing shook his head at me and said, “Sorry, yer in no fightin’ state now. I’m gonna lead the operation.”
I fell back in shock. Ebonwing? He was one of the oldest griffons alive! He was frail and delicate, and would probably die to any wound regardless. He couldn’t go like that! I stood up but Mikusian forced me back down.

“Otto, listen,” She said, brushing debris off my jacket. “You are half blind. HALF BLIND, for Boreas’ sake. Should anypony approach you from the left, you will be easy pickings for them. I have a magic-prosthetic eye that we can install for you. Just be patient, Otto.” I shook my head and propped myself up. From my one good eye, I saw the remains of the ponies I had butchered earlier, so they hadn’t moved me. Swirls and splatters of blood marked the cobblestones, painting the road red. Once more, I fell back down to the cobbles.

Mikusian then turned, gasped in fear and called, “ENEMY MAGES BEHIND-” She never finished her sentence as a blast of magic tore through her robes. I was no medic, but the amount of blood spewing from the wound told me it was a fatal blow. Erich turned, his rifle in claws but he too, was hit by an arc of flame. He fell, his jacket burning and beak contorted in agony.

As he fell, he slid the charges to me and uttered, “Ach, deliver these… nngghh… to Wilhelm…”

Those were his final words. A mage speared him from behind with her horn. “Stupid partisian boss. Without a commander they’ll fall short. Scatter and hide like rabbits.” They turned and galloped off. I assumed they didn’t attack me because they thought I was already dead. But they were in for a shock. Bracing myself, I attempted to get up again, using my minigun as support. “Hm?” One of the mages turned around to see a gore splattered griffon, eye bleeding and broken, leg marked with bullet slashes. It was all it took for them to break. They scattered and ran, screaming about a red vengeance. I smiled grimly, the schadenfreule returning. Packing the charges and Mikusian’s prosthetic eye into my pocket, I slowly began to hobble towards the Grover V Station. Every pony I saw ran in terror, probably scared by what looked like a dead griffon marching again, and whoever fought, I cut down where they stood. After what felt like an eternity of walking, Grover V Station loomed into view, lit orange by the setting sun. The entire outer platform was patrolled by griffons, some of whom ran to assist me into the centre of the station. Inside, griffons sat everywhere, on barrels, benches and even some on the lanterns swaying gently. An entire hall was filled with white covered griffons, presumably casualties of this first half of the battle alone. Another was full of wailing, mauled griffons, with medigriffs rushing to and from, some carrying racks of utensils or buckets of blood.

Eventually I found Wilhelm Wiedergriff. He tackled me, yelling “OTTO! What happened to ya!?”

I coughed and said, “Surprise mauling. Have we stabilised the key point control yet?”
He nodded. I coughed again, collapsing. From under my jacket, all of the bombs slid out.

Wilhelm yelled, “GODS! WHAT HAPPENED TO EBONWING!”

I explained the sombre story of them patching me up, the surprise assault of the mages and the deaths of Mikusian and Ebonwing.

“So we got no command now… That means we're toast.” Wilhelm muttered. I merely grunted.

A surgeon ran over and said, “Listen, Otto, you need to be fixed up BADLY!”

I pushed him away. “NO! I’m taking over Ebonwing’s mission! I vowed to dedicate my soul to Grover, and failed, so I will prove my name by killing the imposter! I DON’T NEED HELP!”

The surgeon said, “Fine. At least let us give ya a prosthetic eye.”
I slid out the one Mikusian had handed me. And then the surgeon gave me a shot which made me collapse unconcious.





In my dreams, I was in the temple of Boreas, looking down line after line of Lake City guardsmen. They all carried banners with Heavenly Snow’s face on it, the mere sight of which made me furious. The prince himself was sitting on a throne, hooves on the Griffonheim Crown, a smug grin plastered across his face. He barked, “BRING ME GROVER!”
A pony dragged a ragged, torn figure out from behind a column and my heart sank. Kaiser Grover II. He never fled the city. He was captured by these invaders. Some threw tomatoes and others threw rocks. Throughout the entire onslaught he stood straight and proud, not uttering a word. Heavenly Snow whipped him several times, and then yelled,”GRIFFON! HAND THE CROWN TO ME NOW!” Grover ignored him entirely, not even blinking. Judging from Heavenly Snow’s furious glare, he had resisted for a long time.

He screeched, “GAH! BRING OUT THE OTHER ONE!” A pony dragged forwards a smaller griffon, with small glasses. His big blue eyes were welling with tears, and he looked around with stark terror. Heavenly snow smiled and I gasped. Not just Grover II, but Grover VI as well? Heavenly Snow took this well, and began rapidly brutalising the young griff with the whip. Each lash tore through his flesh and he cried in pain, each louder than the last.

Grover II finally gave in once his great great grandson collapsed sobbing, whipmarks covering his back. “FINE, YA HOOFED SHIT! JUST STOP KILLIN MY DESCENDANT, YA GREASED FUCK!”

Heavenly Snow smiled evilly once more. “Then we begin now.”

I awoke with a shock, screaming loudly. Then I realised that I could see from my left eye again. Only I saw everything greyed, but better than nothing. I didn’t take any time to grab my gear and yell into the radio,”ALL FORCES, ARM UP!” The poor medic next to me had fainted from shock, but I ignored him and ran to the front of the station. The sky was star spangled, lit by the odd house fire or bonfire, and provided us with decent vision. Slowly, the rest of the partisian horde united before me, at the front of the plaza. From what I saw, the majority was alive, but I assumed at least a few thousand had died.

Raising my arm, I screamed, “WE HAVE SUCCEEDED THE FIRST HALF OF OUR PLAN, THEY HAVEN’T FOUND US YET! NOW WE STRIKE BEFORE THEY STRIKE US! FUR KAISER UNT VATERLAND!” The griffons echoed my cry with passion, not noticing as I collapsed, smashing into the floor.

The medic shook his head and said, “Sir, not to be a thorn in ya claw, but yer blood level fallen so yeah… You lose any more, you die.”

I staggered up, and uttered, “Lay off, mediwings. I ain’t gonna let that happen. I have to take Ebonwing’s place and lead the Griffinheim Liberation Army!” I ran forwards as the force behind me followed. Almost instantly, we encountered trouble. The Lake City forces knew where we were, just didn’t engage us. They had fortified everything around, so as not to waste ponies trying to flush us out. And they had everything. Sandbags, anti-tank guns, anti aircraft, and artillery. The moment we had the bulk of our forces in their sight, they let rip with Maarite hellfire. I watched as griff after griff fell, tanks exploding and aircraft falling. But even these losses could not faze my fury. I had my barrel spun up and firing back, the battlecry “FUR KAISER UNT VATERLAND!” already spewing from my maw.
We fired back, despite the constant anguished cries of loyal griffons falling, our rifles making our final dying remarks to them. The tank I stood atop fired, and its shell fragmented their central artillery, paving a path for the infantry to rip through. I leaped off, ducking under a shell, and lead the spearing. I leaped over their bullets, sandbags and corpses, sword in hand as soon as I landed. A poor youngster, probably drafted attempted to load his saddle blaster, and desperately failed. Being a humane griff, I clonked him over the head and turned towards the immediate threats. A bullet flew towards me, grazing my beak, so I beheaded the pony who launched it. Now the rest of the revolutionaries were pouring in, beginning to rend the defenders. Suddenly, a grenade, primed and ready arced towards me, so I did the oldest trick in the book: hit the damn thing away. Swinging readily, my greatsword sent it straight into a window, where a sniper rifle poked out. The outer wall of the house ruptured, spraying masonry all over the street, the sniper annihilated. I smiled grimly, as a fine bloody shower covered us in crimson. I then didn’t hesitate to hack through another pony’s legs, causing them to fall down, crippled. I left them at the mercy of the rest of the corps as I began to clear out the remainder of their guns and sandbags. Soon, we were running forwards again, until we encountered hailing fire from the windows overlooking the street.

I yelled, “COWARDS, GET OUT AND FIGHT!” Bullets continued to fly, proving their cowardice. And at the same time, a group of Lake City tanks rounded the corner to attack us.

I called out, “FORCE SPLIT! HALF FORCE THEM OUT, HALF WITH ME!” They were efficient, half of our forces turning to face the incoming firestorm and some rushing into the buildings, the rest with me, marching down the Kaiserstraße towards the Palace and Heavenly Snow. As we continued, planes thundered overhead, roaring their fury in storms of lead against each other. Suddenly, one thundered overhead, and pegasi, an entire Nimbusian squadron leaped out. It seemed that the rest of the River Coalition had gotten word of our shenanigans in this city. I raised my gun and let fly at the diving pegasi. Blood flew out, and some of the paratroops lost formation overhead in attempts to avoid my fire. Gore splattered across my chest, but I continued my barrage. Blood continued to rain onto me, as more and more lost their lives to my gun. Finally, the surviving ponies landed, their numbers shredded by my lead storm, to be faced by my kinsmen’s bayonets and machine guns. I turned to face another barrage of shells, fired by another tank force that had rounded a corner. Ducking under, I tore a grenade from my pocket and lobbed it at the panzer, before charging onwards, ignoring the fate of the tanks as my own panzers turned to face them. I then reached the mound’s peak, to see the Griffking river crawling on, and the mass fortifications in the middle of the Kaiserstraße Bridge. The moment they saw us, they gave no quarter, their guns screaming bloody murder, mowing unprepared griffs down all over, their uniforms shredded by the crossfire. I survived, only a few lucky grazes to the shoulder and flank, my uniform now doused in my comrades’ blood. Brothers and sisters who had been serving nobly for Griffonia falling, knew what they had sworn for, but still their deaths rang true on me. I decided to do the dishonourable and attempt to force through them the horde their way. Unsheathing my sword, I wove through the tank battle, splitting a door open and running inside, already preparing a grenade in hand as I ascended the staircase to the upper floor. Barging through another door into a dilapidated child’s room, I reached to throw, and unleashed straight at them. I watched as the small grey cylinder glided towards them, as a pony leaped out from behind the barricade, hooves out to knock it away, and as both the pony and the grenade plummeted into the Griffking and the blast of fury and water rising up. I reached for another and realised I’d exhausted my stock except for my charges, which were needed for the endgame. And that my stay was noticed, their machinegunner angling to take the building down. I dashed out a moment before the wall was stormed by blizzards of lead. And the moment I reached for my flask of water, one of their unicorns bust through the thin wall between houses, saddleside rifle loaded and aimed straight for my skull. There’d be no death defying this time, just death unless I pulled a miracle. And so I tried. My helmet had deflected shots before, but not at this range. Well either way I’d die so I may as well take this gamble. As the pony fired. I threw my helm and unsheathed my sword to finish him. I watched as the bullet hit the side and sparked off, allowing me to swing around and behead the fool. As I donned my helmet once more, I noticed the fine enchanting magic glow around it. Of course, being a Knight of Arcturius, I’d get this level of gear. But I had no time to thank the Magikorps, as a battle needed to be won. Maybe the solution was for us to fly. They only had two machine guns, the rest were anti-tank or artillery, neither which could handle an aerial assault easily. So I settled it. Dashing back outside, their fate had been decided. Tank shells lay wrecked and griffons lay dying alongside ponies who had been fighting moments ago. But we had survived. I yelled “LISTEN UP! I HAVE A PLAN! WE FLY OVER THE EMBARKMENT! PANZERS FOCUS ON OTHER REGIONS IN THE CITY! THEY HAVE NO ANTI AIR GUNS AND ALL THEIR FIGHTERS ARE DECENTRALISED TRYING TO HUNT OURS! ONWARDS!” To show how certain I was on this plan, I was first to take off. Seeing their commander lead, the rest followed me into hell. The moment we began to move and leap off the hill, the embarkment opened fire with their machineguns, and the artillery struggling to hit us as we wove through the bombardment. But then they fired off an unprecedented attack. All along the Kaiserstraße, artilleries fired weighted nets, catching many of my soldiers off guard. I managed to avoid capture, alongside Wilhelm and several other elites, but the majority of the fighters were dragged down into the Griffking or into furious Lake City regiments. What remained landed across the river and was immediately challenged by the River Coalition’s furious hordes. I myself had my gun revved up and burning through clips, but others fell fast. But we had little chances of surviving this encounter. They had us 20:1, and had cover fire from artillery and snipers. Yet I still fought, even as my fellow knights fell one by one, until Wilhelm and I were the only griffs left standing. When my gun ran out of ammo, I unsheathed my sword and started hacking and slashing, paying no attention to the bullets ripping my bloody garb to shreds. Ponies and unicorns, grenadiers, heavies and mages all fell. A medic charged me, a needle in mouth, and a needle-gun in saddleside, needles flying. I raised my minigun to block, and split open his chest with a lash. Two twin Nimbusians charged me in the old fashioned lancer style, a bad move. I grabbed one, as the other impaled me in the gut, so I sliced both of their hooves out before vaulting over to halve them. A fellow miniguning pony charged me, his gun blaring lead at me. I leaped sideways, keeping flat against the ground so the corpse mounds could help cover my passage, his bullets embedding themselves in the dead flesh. Once arcing around, I leaped over and slammed my sword into his skull, a fatal blow. Now every last one of them had died, and I now stood alone, surrounded by mutilated corpses. Even Wilhelm had backed away from my gore splattered form, terrified by my furious form. Suddenly, the world tilted and I collapsed once more, lapsing into dreams.





Again I was at the Temple of Boreas, beside the throne of the Grovers, with Heavenly Snow atop it. In the backround, the sky glimmered red from the raging flames of war from across the city. In the front, all of the elite from the River coalition were seated before him. River Swirl sat nervously, her sweat running down her flanks in rivulets, Pegicles stroking his pilum in fear. Crimson Heart of Ponaidhean was staring at the throne completely still whereas Queen White Star was drinking champagne after chapagne with Lord Wulfric thinking, probably about how he should be the Kaiser of the Herzlands. Across the aisle, Nova Whirl and Arclight stood, both not all that impressed with this coronation. A large Diamond Dog, presumably their king, sat with a box wrapped in iridescent paper, like a present. He probably didn’t get the memo that this was a coronation. But now the coronation was in full swing now. The Archons were applying their god’s blessing upon Heavenly Frost at gunpoint, at the moment, Eros was midway through his blessing. From here, I could see his fear in his eyes. Then, with a flourish, he poured holy ice over him, uttering “Boreas protect thee.” His job done, he was dragged away by a Lake City guard. He then called at the assembled ponies, “Now I am this union’s head. Swear your fealty to me and me alone and be rewarded. Stand against me and join these pathetic griffs in death!” First came River swirl, who began to utter some form of oath. Suddenly, I awoke with a medigriff zapping me with some exposed wire. “That was some mad stuff there, sir. You fought masses of foes and lost a LOT of blood, yet here you stand victorious. How in Boreas’ name did you not get overwhelmed by agony or just die?” I thought deeply. I had no idea, just fury and rage carried me on. The bullets didn’t hurt me at all then. I then climbed back up, my torso aching horridly as I did so. The medigriff tried to get me down but to no avail. I said, “Whatever fears ya have, you’re right. But I have a service to the Kaiser and Empire to fulfill, by killing Heavenly Snow.”

I raised my battered sword and screamed, “KINSMEN! WE ARE AT THE ENDGAME! I PROPOSE OUR FINAL CHARGE! ENTER THE BUILDINGS AS OUR MAIN HOST CHARGES FOR THE TEMPLE! WE WILL SUCCEED! BOREAS IS ON OUR SIDE! WE MUST WIN FOR GRIFFONS EVERYWHERE!” The battered troops raised their rifles one last time with a hoarse cheer. I could tell, they were running low on energy. They were sick of hearing me desperately gear them up for this. This was our final strike. My inspirational speeches were depleted, the troop morale was lower than I could motivate and now the coronation had begun. I had to finish what Ebonwing started, to defeat the false Kaiser and free the Grovers. Now some tanks had crossed the river, for heavy support, so we could have a chance at taking them on. I raised my minigun and one last time, I screamed, “FOR KAISER UNT VATERLAND!” The hoarse voices of the tired griffons behind me echoing my fury. We then began to hike the last twelve kilometers to the hill’s top and the Temple of Boreas.

As soon as we began to move, the houses erupted in storms of lead, machine guns lining the windows. I charged for the left house, firing towards the windows as I charged. A tank fired at one of the houses, the gunners consumed in fire that mirrored my dedication to this cause. Bashing through the unlocked door, I emerged in a massive marble tiled entry hall, a team of machinegunners at rest in its centre. I gave them no quarter, unleashing my mingun volleys as they scrambled to arms. Four of the ten fell almost instantly, the fifth struggled to open a magic barrier which gave me enough time to slay the fool and the one next to him. The remainder ducked behind a statue of Boreas, one peeking out to spray his own return at me. I used the waxed tiles to my advantage, sliding towards him under the fire until a lucky shot hit my beak. I roared in fury and leaped up, landing behind them and cleaving them all in two with a single stroke. I ripped the blood soaked lead piece from my beak, uttering in anger. Now to clear the rest of the building. Taking their ammo, for I was running low and our machinegun ammos were the same, I climbed up to clear the gunners in the windows. As I climbed, I thought about this battle. How we were winning, I had no idea. Boreas perhaps had blessed us. They outnumbered us severely, and had more aerial support. We were disorganised and I was the only leader. But yet here we were. I was in a manor on the Kaiserstraße, the final push in action. Perhaps our unexpected strike paired with the firm resistance in Feathisia had thinned their lines a bit. I felt the landing under my claws, so I focused. Turning a corner, I kicked a door down and before the gunner could even turn, ran him through the Cutie mark. Not stopping to retrieve my sword, I punched the next machinegunner, not stopping until he fell unconcious. Retriving my blood stained blade, I ran into the next room and slammed my sword into the first gunner’s head. As the next one turned, I swung at his jaw, the blade cutting his head in half. The next room held prepared gunners, as when I turned through the door, I had a smoke bomb blacken my vision, followed by a blast of ice magic freezing my chest. The gunners both leaped through the smoke, their saddleside guns ablaze, ripping holes in my chest. Their blows didn’t stop me from tackling both of them, and charging out the window with them firmly choked under my arms. As the ground arced towards us, I threw them both head first into the ground and spread my wings to handle the hard landing. I hit the ground, rolling to lessen the blow.

As I got up, I asked Wilhelm, who was ordering the panzers to blast their dens to shreds, “How many left?”

He said, “Me and the boys,” he gestured at some contempt, stupid looking, grinning griffons peering out from a tank, “have been able to take everything out up to Giselda Circle. If we all charge as one, we could reach the Temple.” I decided to authorise this one last push. It was time to win this city back. I pointed onwards, a simple gesture that everygriff should know. As one, our force began to grind forwards, the tanks still picking off the machinegunning ponies along the road. Halfway up, our flanks were struck from both sides, waves of Nimbusian pegasi and Deponian tanks storming our unexpecting sides. I turned and spread my wings, launching off the pavement to strike the east insurgency. I dove down straight into the heat of it, my sword piercing two pegasi and as I turned, I bowled another one down. A panzer fired at me, but somegriff threw another Nimbusian pegasus into the shell’s way, splattering me with gore and allowing me time to dodge. I took another bullet to the beak, staining my good eye red, so I bashed the riflepony who fired. He fell easily, and I decided to spin up my gun and dish out a lead blitz. I opened fire, lead, bones and bodies flying everywhere. Whoever approached me, I crushed them, laughing in furious ecstasy. These fools had defaced my homeland and now I would deface them. Fool after fool was mown down, as I turned to face more and more charging me. When one of their heavy tanks turned to me, I fired at the lower front. Judging by the screams, I’d managed to rip through the armour and hit the driver. I leaped atop, and slammed my sword into the roof, hacking a crude entrance into it. Inside, I opened fire once more, blasting through their ammo supplies and the comms pony alike. The commander had an axe in mouth and charged from behind the partisian wall. Like his friends I dispatched him. Climbing out once more, I surveyed their attack failing, laughing in fury as I began to storm them down once more with my leaden barrages. Suddenly, my world glowed orange as a grenade blasted me back. I crashed and rolled through griffs, stopping against a tank. Darkness of death began to edge towards my vision as I watched my blood empty onto the cobbles in front of me. I thought of my failure, to throw the torch to Wilhelm, but I couldn’t find him in the carnage. I called for him, but only succeeded in coughing up more blood. It seemed my fury could only get me so far. I raised my arm and yelled once more, more blood splattering my already soaked commander’s jacket. Struggling and bracing myself against my sword, I climbed up before slipping in blood, my vision beginning to grey out even more.

“This is it.” I thought. “Our resistance ends here.” A medic finally noticed the commander dying and ran over, uttering Boreas over and over again. He stripped my jacket off and swore at the amount of bullets and burns across my chest alone. In fact, I was entirely soaked in blood, so much I looked like I had bled out from everywhere. Which I had. The medigriff pulled out a scalpel, hacking pieces of lead and meat out from everywhere, before sewing up all the wounds to the best of his abillity. I called once more for Wilhelm, but again bled up more.

The medigriff paled and said, “Sir, you must withdraw NOW. You’ve lost over 70% of your blood, and you’ll die! In fact, you’re a miracle lasting this long!”

I ignored this, and climbed back up again.

“SIR!” The medigriff got in my way, so I bashed him away again, but grabbing all his sewing needles and shambled back towards the east insurgency. Griffons faltered to gasp at my ruined body, soaked red in blood, and some even fainted mid battle. The ponies alike were terrified, and when I began to spin up my gun, only then did they charge me. Now I had no joy in this, just cold hard fury. They nearly cost me my life. Now I’d punish them for it. Grenadiers thought the same technique could be used repeatedly, so I shot their grenades. Bullets hit my wounds, reopening them so I pinned them shut using the needles I took. Ponies killed griffon after griffon, so I settled the score by butchering them where they stood. Soon the flow cut out, no more daring to challenge me, so the march continued. Now the massive palace looming over the smoke smothered sky was within our sight, and with it, the Temple of boreas, where Heavenly Snow awaited us. From Giselda Circuit, more of our force returned to join us, our purging of the outer parts of town finished. The ponies here had mostly retreated to the palace or out to the front, afraid of our partisan fury, so now we could end what we began. The last guards, the elites, saw our approach and began to lower the Palace’s gate.

Wilhelm yelled, “That’s not good. The gate is near indestructible, except to Project Arcturius! If it falls we have to fly! And chances are they have Anti Griff guns up there! HURRY!” Using every pint of energy left, I leaped towards the sinking gate, Wilhelm and the remainder of the Knights of Arcturius behind me. Vision darkening, I made it through with the Knights. But as the gate clanged shut, I knew this was true endgame.





Now inside, I remembered the layout perfectly. The east part of the keep was where the temple stood, outside the wall on an outcrop of rock. I yelled and charged, the knights behind. Halfway there, we passed a faction of unconcios ponies, a bottle of alcohol open between them. I ignored and focused on the task at hand. We passed the Statues of Kings, starting with Grover I and ending with Grover VI. All were beheaded, the heads lying in a mound next to the row, the mere sight making my blood boil. We rounded the corner at last, and arrived. As my dreams had shown, the heads of the River Union and the guards, were all lined up, facing Heavenly Snow and the Throne. I then realised the whole plan was screwed up. Ebonwing had expected that he would face the Kaiserplatz and make a presentation, but this was a griffon city, and no griffon would salute a pony as Kaiser. There was no way I could approach the pillars to blast it down without him noticing. Suddenly, he roared and pointed at me, ragged and beat, alongside Wilhelm and our ragged squad of elites. We were screwed, but I may as well try and incite my fury one last time. Clipping my last belt of ammo in, I let rip on the soldiers as they moved towards me as one, and the River Union’s leaders all ran, dragging the entangled Grovers with them. They began to prepare rifles to shoot, a folly that gave me more time to blaze them. Wilhelm had disappeared to Boreas knows where, and the other griffons were already firing alongside me. Now they had readied themselves, they began to return fire. Bullets cut bloody marks across me, each one blossoming in pain. I gritted my teeth and continued to shred the fools, making a simple mistake. When handling a minigunner, SPLIT UP. They were all together firing at me, making almost every lead shard a deadly blow. Blood spurted everywhere, and now they were beginning to doubt my power against theirs.

I smiled and roared, “CRY AND RUN, FOOLS, THE RED VENGEANCE IS HERE!” The name Red Vengeance was something I had only heard once, from a terrified mage, and I felt like for my gore soaked visage, it was a good name. “GAHAHA! DIE, YOU THIEVES!” The schadenfreule was rolling over me, the pain nullified by my hatred of these bastards. Now they were running, my bullets hunting them and felling them. Heavenly Snow was screaming, his voice blocked by my blood rushing in my ears. Now they had all run for cover, only the leaders remaining. Everypony except Heavenly Snow had run now, and he was trembling in rage.

“Y… you killed my guards and stopped my coronation…”

He focused his magic and hefted a fancy single edged blade. “so YOU DIE!” He raised it with magic and charged me, Nimbusian pegasi landing besides him with rifles. I readied my gun and fired the remaining shots at the guards, who all dodged. Finally, a real fight was beginning. They fired their own guns with deadly precision, more of my already drained blood leaking out, but here I felt something. A powerful something held me, and I felt empowered by my fury. I used that to charge, the bullets still cutting through my bloody torso and legs, splattering more blood around me. I leaped, drawing my sword and slashing through the neck of the elite in front of me. Turning, I rammed it into the heart of the pony in front of me, kicking him at another fool, both flying off the outcrop to the Kaiserplatz below. I spun and raised my sword straight to counter Heavenly snow’s sword, his sliding down to my crossguard. Withdrawing, I lashed out to force him back. He slid under and rammed his longblade into my chest. I felt it ram through my chest, but not fatally. In fury, I grabbed my charges and threw them everywhere, all around the Temple. From within the base of the pouch, I hefted the detonator, and everypony gasped in my suicidal plan. I smiled evilly and slammed the detonater. Heavenly Snow leaped away as the bombs all glowed as one, before rupturing across the plaza. I felt the fire burn through my skin and bone, my flesh and blood disintergrating in the blast. In a furious arc, I flew, crashing down in a rooftop a short distance away.

No medigriff could get to me to save me here. My comrades had fallen, Ebonwing and Mikusian had died trying to save me, but Heavenly Snow still lived. Our entire plan had failed.

And now Boreas was coming to bring me to the lands beyond. “Beackmark.” His powerful voice boomed in my mind. “Come.” And everything turned to

black

as

I

ascended.





“Wake.”

I shot upright, my vision restored. I was in a garden, on a marble bench. The trees all bore fruits that I knew were not of our lands. Hedges lined gold tiled paths, and at the end stood a massive golden palace that I knew was the palace of the gods. In front of me stood three griffons that radiated power, in front of a large group of white robed griffons, some I recognized like Grover I, Mikusian, Ebonwing, and Boreal Wiedergriff and other less so. The front was a three metre tall griffon, wearing a solar crown and carrying a golden staff, with feathers that shone like the sun. His eyes were deep golden, which spoke of untold knowledge. He was the true king, the Lord Boreas. To his left a shorter griffon sat on her haunches, her ears decorated with green leaflike points. Atop her head was a crown that looked as if it had been woven from branches of oak. Her petite body was shawled in a green robe, cementing her name as Eyr. On Boreas’ right, a tall griffon sharpened a double edged longsword, engraved with patterns of symbols unknown. His left eye was gone, an eyepatch covering the cavity, but his right eye was steely blue, that seemed to pierce deep into my soul. Atop his head was a steel helm, identical to mine except for the diving eagle symbol where my trident symbol sat. He was Arcturius, my patron of war.

“You did well.” Boreas’ voice was deep and rumbling, like thunder across a summer sky. “Fighting with Arcturius’ wrath, a technique old as griffons. Letting your fury strengthen you. Trying to topple the lying one, Heavenly Snow.”

I said, “My Kaiser, but did you not bless him and crown him?” Boreas roared in fury, causing clouds to thunder and Arcturius and Eyr to cower. “NAY! Eros was forced to at GUNPOINT! He is one I shall never acknowledge as our Kaiser!”

He calmed down and Arcturius stepped forwards. “Kid, you are a champion. Fury is a powerful tool and so is blood. Ya took so long to die because the anger and rage directed at Heavenly Snow was able to force your body to keep running. It was your determination and might throughout that battle. I commend ya, a true hero.”

I bowed deeply, and said, “Thank you, my lord. But did I not fail? I died, and no griffon will step up to the plate to run this offence. Wilhelm was gone, and Heavenly Snow lives! And as emperor, he will have the might of you three behind him.”

Eyr stepped forwards and said, “My dear Otto, he may have a fraction of our power, but you griffons have all of our might behind them. Now as for your death, we don’t agree. In the name of Griffonia, we shall send you back to finish this job. Once, alone. When you fall once more, there will not be another chance. But that pony will not be allowed to rule your people. You can stop him. Fight as the Red Vengeance, the Knight of The Fallen and Fury of the Deceased. Only Grover II before you has been given this, now use it well and stop the imposter.” The world began to fade and the last thing I saw was Ebonwing saluting me.





Suddenly, I awoke once more, atop the roof, my body healed and ammo replenished. The gods were truly giving me another chance. Now just to use that properly. Quickly, I looked around the Kaiserplatz. There were a group of encircled griffons in the center, cornered by some Diamond Mountain infantry. I felt the desperation to aid them, but I had to focus. Heavenly Snow was my quarry, not them. And I was to keep my oath to Boreas. Leaping out, I shot towards the Palace, where gunfire ripped the air. As I flew, I thought of all the unfortunate comrades that fell in this uprising, Ebonwing and Mikusian falling, and the injustices to our kin cast by these liars. I felt the fury building within, flowing in my blood as I dove towards the Lake City elites. Turns out Wilhelm hadn’t died or run away, he had opened the palace gates for the rest of our forces, and were now locked against Heavenly Snow’s legions. But now I was going to give them hell. Unsheathing my sword, I flattened a pegasus and spun, my blade ripping through flesh and bone, showering blood everywhere. Everypony who saw me, panicked and scattered. They had seen my flaming, ruined corpse fall over the Kaiserplatz, yet I was here as strong as steel. This just made it better as I tore through them, my fury roaring within like a bonfire of souls. I hacked through the last to come face to face with the thief himself, Heavenly Snow. His reaction was akin to his comrades, but far quicker overcome. To him, I was just another infuriated griffon peasant, trying to stop him.

Little did he know, this little peasant would be the one who would rip him apart. I lashed at him, my blade clashing against his longsword, drawn hastily to defend. I spun it and cut his leg before ramming my spiked Knight helm into his face, savouring the feeling as his glasses and jaw broke. He screamed and slashed at me wildly, the edge cutting through my jacket and ripping along my arm. I reached back and brought my blade overhead, his own sword blocking desperately. Not stopping, I continued to press down, trying to break his blade as it slowly descended. This I relished. Cornering my foe and slowly breaking him down before finally killing him. Suddenly, in an unexpected move, he rolled to the side and fired a blast of magic at my chest. No time to dodge, I felt it rupture my jacket, but suddenly stop before piercing my skin. I looked, and I noticed armour, shining red in the light of the fire. A parting gift of Boreas, I assumed as I leaped towards Heavenly snow once more. He scampered back, barely avoiding the strike as it split the lawn. I withdrew, and he used the opportunity to lash again towards me. I ducked and rolled behing one of the beheaded Grover statues, his blade biting into the altar. Now defenceless, I charged him, sword angled to behead him, as he desperately tried to retrieve his weapon. Finally realising it wasn’t going to come free, he hefted the head of Grover V and flung it at me with a shot of magic. I couldn’t block, so I just took it. The force of the head sent me hurtling into a wall, my bones shattered in several places. Shaken but not fallen, I stood back up, as Grover III’s head flew towards me again. This time, there was enough space to dodge, so I leaped up and kicked off the rock, straight at Heavenly Snow. Now he had gotten his sword back from the altar, and readied himself for my blow. I put everything behind it, and smashed his blade with all my might. The blow not hitting him, it still sent him flying onto the ruins of the Temple of Boreas. I followed swiftly, my blade aimed at his open throat. Swiftly, he rolled to the side, my blade shattering the rocks where he lay moments ago. Again, he launched a boulder towards me, making me question if he was just a lying cavepony, as he fought like one. This smaller one, I cut it in half before springing at him. Now in the closer quarters, I unleashed a flurry of blows, many nicking and hacking parts of his jacket and flesh free, each one fuelling my anger at Heavenly Snow.

Finally, he screamed, “ENOUGH, GRIFFON! AS YOUR EMPEROR, I COMMAND YOU STOP!” I felt him channeling the might of the gods to try and stop me, part of me relaxing. In retaliation,

I called for the reserves that the gods had given me and screamed back, “NEVER! YOU ARE NOT THE GODS’CHOSEN DISIPLE, YOU ARE NAUGHT BUT AN URSURPER!” Our powers crashed against each other, echoing like thunder and sending rubble flying. The only visible sign was an aura of energy, glowing whitish red. I focused, and took a step towards Heavenly Snow, my energy advancing with it. I felt like marching through a gale, random memories of Heavenly Snow hitting me. I saw him in the Northen Zaphizian plains, leading an assault on a line of fortresses on a river, his inauguration where he had promised to reform the Holy Pony Empire, and then him leading the attack on this city. I continued to take step after step, the gale increasing as he forced more energy into it.

Now I could hear the memories too. “DIE GRIFFON DIE!”

“Come on, CHARGE THEM!”

“THOSE RAIDERS HAVE RUN RAMPANT FOR LONG ENOUGH! OUR HOOF FALLS HERE!”

I took another massive stride, my limbs straining agaisnt the furious storm. Heavenly Snow roared, forcing every reserve of his energy into this attack, the storm firing up with more and more fury. I raised my arms and took yet another step towards him. He couldn’t move, his whole body focusing on forcing me back. I didn’t stop, taking step after step towards him. Finally realising he was dead, he tried to run but his magic had taken it’s toll.Once he started to release it, it wouldn’t stop flying till the target died or he died. But here, I had the will to trump him. Taking the last steps, I swung, my blade arcing straight into his neck, before tearing his entire head free, blood and gore spewing from the severed neck. His last moments of fear were permanently etched onto his face as it rolled across the tile, the maelstrom of magic cooling as his body collapsed behind me. Reaching out, I grabbed his head and ran to where the remainder of the forces duelled.

Upon arrival, I landed on the wall, produced Heavenly Snow’s head and roared, “SEE, FOOLISH PONIES! YOUR EMPEROR LIES DEAD BY MY HAND! SURRENDER OR JOIN HIM!” When they saw his head, they blanched and ran with their guns falling behind them, followed by my forces. Slowly but surely, the news of Heavenly Snow’s decapitation spread, and the River Union retreated from the Hertzland.

Grover II and Grover VI were freed, and the rest of the leaders of the Union aggreed to a ceasefire, returning all our conquered lands and with much fury from Grover II, we accepted. The worst war to rock our Empire in an eternity was over. I was assigned the position of Head of the Royal Guard, Benito humbly stepping down for me, and Grover knighting me as The Red Vengeance, Knight of the Fallen and Avenger of the Deceased. Wilhelm was assigned to the guard under me, which I always poked fun at him about. And the Griffinheim Uprising of 1017 went down in the Historia Griffonia as one of the few successful rebellions in our history.
> Part 20
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I gotta admit, that has to be the longest story I've ever told." Vlad said.

"Listen... Chad, was it?" A pony asked in confusion. "I don't mean to sound rude, but can you please stop telling these stories, I don't want to feel scared when I get to the gala tonight."

"One, my name is Vlad, Chad is my father's, brother's, nephew's, cousin's, former roommate's name, and two, the gala will be the start of this story..."
> Mercy, Celestia
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

She met her at one of the Grand Galloping Galas—those grand parties filled with soft music and court banter. Princess Celestia had learned that even at her first ten efforts to introduce different activities that both gentry and common pony alike would not deter from their subjects of politics, sports, gossip, and other everyday topics. It wasn't that she minded keeping things as they were, just that even during grand parties—excuses to stay within the castle at night and forget the moon that loomed above with the silent you did this that she wanted to forget—ponies would still be nice and predictable.

Okay, maybe too predictable.

But she wasn't like that. Three hundred years into her reign alone it was meant to be just another Grand Galloping Gala where she could socialize casually with one and all. The princess had complements for each mare and stallion's attire with a smile any mortal hostess would quietly envy.

It was there, on that night, that she met Silent Flight—or as she preferred, Sy—a pegasus mare from the growing merchant caste. She had no trade she was passionate about, as Celestia would soon learn. Sy only had her friend, who was kind enough to get her a dress and tickets.

A simple accident at one of the wine tasting stations and a mess of massacred grapes spilled across the palest gold satin of the princess' gown was enough for them to get a 'hello' out of one another. And that had been followed by a whole river of awkward condolences as Sy rushed to find anything to get the liquid out of the fabric before it dried. It was a pointless endeavor, not that Celestia minded her ruined one-of-a-kind gown, not when she could just commission another. She was sure nopony would notice. They were in a hall filled with half-tipsy ponies that wouldn't admit to being so in any polite conversation that perhaps this event had gotten a bit carried away.

The princess was more interested in the pony whose face she had never seen before and whose family she had never met an ancestor of. The mare who cut her sky-blue mane short instead of adopting the tresses of the age had caught Celestia's attention. Pleasantries were exchanged, and the royal Alicorn with so much experience in the art of composure under her wing caught each trace of surprise in her guest's voice. For hours on end, she spoke to a mare who told grand tales of the aerial colonies of Equestria as she had been unable to see it through her own royal eyes. Sy even bothered to speak her mind — in the presence of her Princess, no less —and confide to Celestia that she found the gentry stuffy as well. Then, she would resume her tales about the shipments relayed from exhausting routes from Cloudsdale to distant cottage-clusters in the sky.

One mistake had made these mares friends, and after that year's Grand Galloping Gala, Princess Celestia learned that Sy had moved to Canterlot. She began to visit the castle often, and the princess made all the time she could to visit her new friend. Celestia made sure to really give herself time away from her duties — a first since she had taken the throne, since the Solar Millenium had started, and the war on Discord had concluded before that. She made it one of her priorities to learn as much as possible about the pegasus mare who she could feel only delight in hanging around and introducing to her gentry gal pals.

She discovered that Sy had great skill with wingblades and their combat, and offered to pay her friend's way through formal royal guard training with money from the crown; for what could be better than protecting ponies who could not protect themselves? Sy agreed, and soon earned the prized rank of captain, solving numerous cases of break-ins around the city, and garnering enough reward bits to purchase a nicer home for herself, one with—in her words—'nifty molding'.

Then the princess learned that Sy didn't wish to go out with Celestia and her fine, gentry friends anymore, preferring to help the ponies she vowed to protect. Eventually, Celestia had discovered Sy's secret to finding so many stolen ornaments and heirlooms: the pegasus had been the one to steal such things in the first place, to uproot the much-cared-for possessions of others, and even planting them to be found. Still, the rumors of fencing only made the princess' shock more hollow. It was how she got the money to move to Canterlot, and how Sy had really gotten to Canterlot on the eve of Grand Galloping Gala in the first place, as well as how she acquired the dress.

Her new friend; a criminal? Princess Celestia did not wait to confront the lying pegasus about her law-breaking spree. She never could; the good most high was worth more than the reputation of a single pony.

She asked Sy if they were really friends.

Sy lied and told her that they were.

Celestia begged her friend not to continue her secret 'work,' and to honor the pledge she had made when she had joined the Royal Guard.

Sy lied again and told her that she would, and most importantly, she vowed that she would stop.

When a pony begs for their life at Princess Celestia's hooves, begging not to be cast out, imprisoned, exiled, or turned from the herd — well, the sun goddess was compelled to listen.

And Celestia, in her finite mercy, forgave her.

The princess thought that she had changed a pony and made them a good, righteous, and ideal subject and friend. She had done so in the past and saw no reason why this time could be different. She believed a wound had been healed when Lady Silent Flight acted nobly in both action and word. She socialized and attended parties again, and Sy even went to other events and meetings that were under the eyes of her fellow guard ponies.

Celestia thought she had grown closer to a friend that she trusted her image with. She thought she was right to try forgiveness, to spare somepony when she would normally have no reservations about turning a pony in for punishment.

She thought she was looking through a clear window, where all was revealed to the content-seeming princess. It was like she had blinked. How had she been staring at a window? There was no clean, cool glass in front of her, not now. Princess Celestia would find no garden or pleasant city below the view framed between such pristine panes. Even though the glass may distort, it can still be dirtied. Yet the princess was not given the mercy of looking at any window—be it broken, dirtied, or in any other condition.

Before Princess Celestia was a door of silvery-white. It was located in a dim part of the castle that was kept frighteningly clean at all times. As a result, there was no dust to indicate disuse, and only a stagnant chill offered any hint to how lonely and rarely occupied this part of the castle was. Where each hoof step, however quiet, left an almost unbearable echo.

Celestia's bright, golden magic, so cheerful and vibrant, held the enchanted padlock of a door so thick that not even the most muscle-bound of ponies would have been able to push it open. She used her divine magic to weave a key that only her power could make, duly noting the clean and resounding click that was made as the device dissolved upon the spell's completion.

A faint humming sound filled her ears before she rapped the solid-sounding thing with her hoof to see if the barrier around the door's exterior had dispelled.

Her hoof quivered once, but she pretended otherwise. It had.

One brusque shove, with not even a fraction of her godly strength was spent. There was a silent rush of air and a complimenting, slow swing inward.

Celestia brushed her wither off as if to clean dirt that wasn't there and stepped inside. Her eyes trained on the left wall of a room too bright to have been naturally whitewashed and humming faintly with enchantments powerful enough to restrain any pony — regardless of if they felt their power was ascended to the highest reaches of a mortal's limit.

A faint rattle of metal links rang out, and Celestia knew it was not armor.

"Celestia?"

"It is I, Princess Celestia," was Celestia's level and toneless response to the nervous and frantic questioner. This pristine area of the castle was still a dungeon — even if she had wanted to act otherwise, she could not bring herself so. Her spirit was as low as the belly of Canterhorn Mountain, where this area was located.

"Gods. Oh gods, is it really going to be you?" It was an obviously worried plea, from a pony who—like all the other subjects of Equestria—could only remember one god.

The kind of pony who was high up enough to know Equestria made no mortal take up this grim part of her royal duties.

The left wall was bare, except for three hooks. The first, placed high and centered, held a helm of gold, which Celestia ignored. For this day, she would forsake one element of impersonality. The two lower hooks were placed accordingly so they might perfectly balance the object whose weight they support.

The princess dispelled another personal, divine-wrought barrier spell. Only then did she lift the magnificent gold battle-ax from its perch. The blades were carved with patterns of flame that glittered white in the light of the werelights that huddled near the ceiling of the inescapable room and the handle. That was almost thrice the length of three average ponies standing end to end. Her grand ax bore similar etchings that ended only at the handle's end, where a ruby carved and preserved with enchantments shone with almost otherworldly wrath; the light captured by each facet carved to mimic angry flame was violently reflected onto the barren walls, where they danced chaotically against the oppressive sterility of the chamber.

It was only then that she turned around to face the mortal, the pony behind her.

A pegasus mare stood in front of a tapestry on the farthest, right wall, which depicted a rather erroneous version of the defeat of Discord by a lone Sun Goddess. Unlike the window she commissioned for Canterlot Castle when it was built a few centuries earlier, this tapestry was very recent. It wasn't just any mare either, Celestia could see the color of her coat through the bindings that stilled her wings and the blindfold that couldn't tame the pale blue mane she never grew out. The cutie mark was a final glaring confirmation.

"We," she began, as impersonal as ever to a pony that was once her friend, "would not have another soul take your own. Always has this been Our sacred duty, and an unseen one as well. Who doth thou think it was that dealt with the likes of thou? We would not let a single gentle, mortal soul take on such a task."

"Celestia, please—" begged the shackled mare, only to be poked with the ruby on Celestia's ax and made to kneel.

"We gave thou Our trust and Our forgiveness, and what hath thou done despite this?"

"I—"

"Thou kept taking from others what was not rightly thine.

"Celestia—"

"We are the Princess to thou," Celestia said, voice stern but not cold; despite the circumstance, her monarch's mask wasn't given up.

"Princess Celestia—"

"Thou, who used to be a friend, broke into the homes of thy fellow Equestrians and continued to steal from them, which was a more pardonable offense. But did thou stop there?"

"It was not—"

"Thou, Silent Flight, former Lady of Our court and a Captain of the Royal Guard, took thine wingblades—uniquely carved with thine own mark—with thou on each journey."

Silent Flight did not make a sound as the princess recounted her deeds.

"Thou, Silent Flight, trespassed in the home of a duke when thou had received word that he and his family had left for a country manor."

"I know..."

"The house was not empty, Silent Flight. A filly was there."

Silent Flight began to sob through her blindfold. "I know!"

The ears of the offender pricked up when they detected the movement of the ax cautioning them into silence once more. The guilty mare rested her head on the block of clean-scrubbed cold marble in front of her.

"She caught thou stealing her mother — the noble duchess' — jewelry. And what did thou do? It would have been a pardonable offense if thou hath run."

Silent's tears were short-lived, as she choked briefly before retreating into the quiet, which was her last shield.

"One of thine wingblades was there."

The pegasus trembled before the goddess.

"It was covered in her blood."

No empathy showed in Celestia's face.

"We tolerate a great many things in Equestria; petty thievery is one of them and is dealt with easily. The theft of life is not."

The princess did not receive any reply.

"We did so much for thou and thou will not even tell Us where thou buried her body, not that everypony does not know of thine guilt."

From the block came one cry of:

"Mercy, Celestia!"

It was the supposed cry of each of her foes: Tirek, King Sombra, Discord, and the villain they knew only as Nightmare Moon. Each was said to utter this as their last words in each and every legend that was told all across Equestria. Although it was mostly attributed to the last foe, in particular, it was held that the fabled Nightmare Moon uttered this. The stories said that Nightmare Moon was wholly black-hearted and came from across the horizons, as un-Equestrian as evil was expected to be. She tried to destroy and overthrow the pretty, universally-loved Princess Celestia. Nightmare Moon was believed to imitate a goddess, not be a truly fallen one, and she brought about the Longest Night to mark their fight. In the stories of her ponies, Nightmare Moon was all folly — pride, envy, wrath, and deceit — save lust. Every story says the splendid Princess Celestia finds out Nightmare Moon's imitation and in their fight when the 'monster' lies broken, screaming, and blood at Celestia's hooves she — supposedly — utters those words before she is sealed within the moon to suffer.

That is the story that Princess Celestia's ponies tell gleefully about what they no longer know was their ruler's little sister, her only family, and the biggest piece of disappeared history in all of Equestria. Her subjects had unknowingly made what was supposed to be a villain's petty begging and a sign of their ultimate heroine's triumph into the most brutal of taunts.

Celestia did not hesitate to swing.





Celestia had always thought of herself as kind. For a long time, there had never been a doubt in her mind that she wasn't a cruel or wrathful individual. It was she did everything needed in order to get along well with the society she had discovered — the three pony tribes — and the one she had helped build: present-day Equestria, the treasure of a kingdom she gave to her ponies.

She had always tried to help as many ponies as possible, generously spending so little time on herself. It was kind to live a life of service, which was the ultimate generosity, and were charity and self-sacrifice not the ultimate acts of kindness in turn? She prided herself on the little thought of trying to place herself as 'Princess' first and 'Celestia' second. That was the order that she always had to think of herself in, and now it was automatic. It's why she gladly lent a hoof to the attendants at Canterlot's courthouse clean and sort through all their old records.

The courthouse of Canterlot was not far from the castle. It had been established after Luna's banishment when Princess Celestia got the idea in her head to let unexperienced and common ponies judge many of the crimes that could not be resolved with a quick meeting from the princess. Though, in the days of the past, it had always been the princesses, plural, who acted as judges for all. Those kinds of crimes were brutal and incredibly rare in Equestria. It also involved a visit to the princess, but it was one that they didn't return from if their crime was heinous enough. Such a trip was only after the trial took certain turns and ended with a guilty verdict.

For hundreds of years, ponies had become used to a system that had neither experienced and educated monarchs judging them or twisted and easily bought tribal nobles from days past the dual court before even Discord knew Equestria. Technically, Celestia could use her power to override the juries that were selected and any verdicts that she felt were erroneous. She rarely chose to, leaving that fact unreleased to all who didn't study law and never acted upon her ability. For the most part, as she had faith in her ponies to make the right decisions.

Today, in a couple of hours between lunch and breakfast, Celestia was going to look through the results of many overworked secretaries and even a few qualified volunteers sorting through records of every trial in Equestria, along with its verdict and corresponding evidence files.

After the exchange of pleasantries, it was settled to who would go through what and re-sort everything under the new organization system that had been implemented.

Celestia took at least a dozen boxes in her magic easily and trotted over to one of the many offices in the regal building. She would occupy this one for the next few hours.

She kept a cup of tea next to her and a schedule tucked into it, along with any other necessary papers detailing updates that might have to be made to the documents and varying seals that only the princess would have the authority to apply.

Each case was familiar and she felt herself give a faint bob of her head in recognition each time she saw a name and result.

Celestia sighed after flipping through a few files, wishing that her lot hadn't gotten so scrambled. Even under the old system, these files had gotten very mixed up. She was on the second box where it appears the last pony to attend to the case records couldn't even sort them alphabetically.

She clicked her tongue and withdrew another file with her magic, glancing at the list under her teacup quickly before returning to the folder floating in front of her, gasping at the title.

Silent Flight, a name she had almost forgotten when most of her country already had. Even for her, it had felt like a lifetime ago.

She frowned and opened the folder, flipping through the trial records, the notes from the scene, the uniquely carved set of wingblades, and the alibi that had never checked out. The princess flipped through another page detailing the fall of a pony she had once pitied. There, lying in front of her was a hoofwritten confession by the guard who had interviewed his former captain, and behind that was a timeline of what was said actually happened, adapted from Silent's own words. The grim forensics — then in their infancy — only served to hammer in the senseless tragedy.

Celestia looked at the rim of the desk where she was sitting. They had never found the body of the filly anywhere on the grounds of Silent's own property or the gardens of the manor. Such a cruel act robbed a grieving family of the right to lay their child to rest in the family tomb. That day, there had been whispers of theories among the Royal Guard — that the rivers of Canterlot were likely used as a disposal method.

The sheer heartlessness of the thought — how anypony could act so — had Princess Celestia's mane simmering at the time.

She recalled the day she stared at the face of a former friend, thinking only of a filly who would never grow up.

Mercy, Celestia.

Those had been Silent's last words before she lived up to the first half of her name.

But for her, there had been none. Silent has showed none.

Celestia closed the folder, jotted her notes, and moved on.
> Part 21
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vlad was about to say something, but was interrupted by what sounded like a groan, "Oh come on, my stories can't be THAT boring." He complained.

"It's not that." The pony complained, "I've got some painful stomach pains recently, I'm on my way to the nearest hospital to get it checked out."

"And do you know why you've got these pains." Vlad retorted, "well maybe we should find out..."
> The last laugh
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At the ponyville hospital, a grown stallion sat alone in the waiting room, watching the clock with anxiousness, and from time to time, look at the empty seats.

He knew why the place was empty, Pinkie Pie was throwing a big party to celebrate the first day of spring, and apparently everypony is there, because he was waiting for an hour.

Suddenly the door opened, and a nurse pony wearing a jacket entered, "about time." he thought.

"Sorry I took so long sir." She said as she took off her jacket, "I was dealing with some serious business at home, but your call seemed urgent, now what seems to be the problem?"

"I've got stomach pains nurse." He said, motioning to his chest, "I get a terrible feeling down here, everytime I laugh."

"That sounds pretty serious, I better take a look at you." She led the stallion to one of the infirmary rooms, "My names Nurse Redheart by the way, what's yours?"

"Ceely, Ernie Ceely." He answered, "I moved here from Vanhoover two weeks ago, I was kind of a practical joker down there."

"I see." Redheart said, "say, are you by any chance related to Pinkie."

"If I was, then my last name would be Pie."

"Just checking." Said Redheart, "just out of curiosity, what type of jokes do you usually do."

"Well I usually do some prank calls." Ernie started off, "For example, I would usually call a random house, and I'd say something along the lines of 'excuse me, I'm with the electric company, we're doing a routine inspection, is the streetlight outside your house lit.'" A grin started to form on his face, "they go check and then say, 'yeah it's lit', and I just say, 'well make you put it out before you go to bed okay, bye'".

He then started to chuckle at the memory, but it stopped and the grin faded as he felt the pain return. "Are you alright?" Redheart asked.

"Yeah I'm fine, but now you know how I feel these pains once in a while." Ernie said, and then continued his story.

"That wasn't the only prank call I did, I would also call a bar that was in a town called Springfield, I remember it like it was yesterday..."





"Hello, Moe's tavern. "

"Yes, is there a Hugh Janus here, I have an important message for him."

"Hold on I'll check... Hugh Janus, phone call for Hugh Janus... come guys, do I have a Hugh Janus.

"You sure do."

*Laughter*

"Wait a minute... It's you again isn't it Celly, I swear one of days I'm gonna find you and shove an apple so far up your flank cider will come out of mouth when you talk."





"The guy was a jerk but I love him, and besides there's no way he'd track me down here." Ernie laughed in triumph, knowing he was safe from Moe's laugh, which proved to be a mistake, as he put his hooves over his chest in pain.

"Is that why you moved to ponyville?" Nurse Redheart asked. 

"Oh no, it was the prank call I made the day before I left that made me move here." Ernie admitted, "I was hoping to get a gas station, a quaint little house, or a small hotel, but I think I got Liam Neeson's house instead, because before I got a word in edgewise, the guy on the other end said something like this..."



"I thought it was a joke too, but I'm still not sure it was actually Liam Neeson, but I still moved just in case it was."

All of this left Nurse Redheart confused, "What does this have to do with your stomach pains."

"I'm getting there." Ernie said, "After I moved here, I decided to pull what I consider to be the best joke I ever done, it was a simple matter of buying some hunks of meat and some young pony's clothes, but I decided to wait until next week so I can get acquainted with some of the residents here."

Ernie was careful not to laugh, but instead smiled at the memory of the joke... he never noticed the look on Redheart's face, which vanished when she looked at Ernie, "what exactly did you do as your joke?"

"Well, what I did is that I put the meat in the clothes, and when the time was right, put them on the tracks at the train station." Ernie said, as he thought back to that day, "aside from some ponies and other creatures getting on and off the train, there were some kids playing near the tracks." Redheart's look from before returned, "When the train went over the dummy I made, I made a loud, childlike scream, you should have seen the looks on faces when they saw the mess."

This time, Ernie laughed, and once again the pain returned.

"You know what, I think I need to do some more examinations to see what the problem is." Redheart said, "just wait out here for a moment, I'll let you know when you can come in." She took out some pills from a container, "In the meantime, take four of these, it'll ease the pain."

Ernie walked out into the hall and took the pills, he heard the sound of equipment moving around in the room, the seconds turned into minutes, and finally, Redheart told him, "Alright Ernie, you can come in now."

"Uh nurse, I don't think those pills are working." Ernie said "In fact, it feels as painful as ever."

"Don't worry, these exams should be able to help find what the problem is."

Ernie sat down on the bed in the medical room, while redheart opened a window which was positioned to face a nearby cemetery, but Redheart seemed to look at a mausoleum.

"You know, there was a family in this town Ernie, a father and two boys, one was eight, while the other one was three."

"Yeah kids were easy targets for me, you should've seen their faces the moment they saw that mess."

"As a matter of fact, this concerns your little prank." She said, as her thoughts went back to that fateful day.





"See you guys, I'm off to work, Harold there's some pie in the fridge if you want it, Jeffrey look after Steven while I'm out."

"I probably should've mentioned there was a wife too, anyway, on the day you pulled that joke of yours, Jeffrey was playing near the train station with his friends, until they heard a scream, when they saw bloody remains they ran screaming into the town, but Jeffrey thought the mess was his brother."

Jeffrey was running with a horrified look on his face, shouting "DAD, DAD!" all the while... unaware of a runaway cart heading in his direction.

"LOOK OUT!!!"

"Harold heard some screams and went outside to investigate, forgetting to turn off the water in the bathtub."

Harold ran outside to see what happened... though he wished he didn't.

"Oh my Celestia, JEFFREY!"

Horrified beyond belief, Harold suddenly remembered Steven, and ran back into the house, when he got to the bathroom, he gasped in horror, and felt a searing pain rushing through him.





Ernie was left confused by the story, but more importantly, how could Redheart know everything about the family, unless...

The realization hit him like a ton of bricks, "YOU!!!"

"Yes Ernie." Redheart said with anger growing in her voice, "That was MY FAMILY'S STORY, my son died when he got hit by that cart, the baby drowned, and my husband dropped dead of a heart attack, MY FAMILY IS GONE BECAUSE OF YOU!"

Before Ernie could react, Redheart forced him onto the bed and tied his hooves to the ends of said bed, "And by the way, there's a reason why your stomach pains gotten worse, it's because the pills had fish hooks, barbed fish hooks."

Ernie struggled to free himself, but it was no use since the ropes were the 'extra thick' type, so there was nothing he could do when Redheart forced what seemed to be a mask over his nose of mouth, connected to a canister... of laughing gas.

Before Ernie knew it, he felt the laughing gas taking effect, and began to laugh and writhe in pain, while Nurse Redheart stood and watched the scene unfold.

"Die laughing Ernie, DIE LAUGHING. "
> Part 22
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I must say, you have quite a sense of humor." Vlad said, "but then again, you're no Pinkie Pie, Cheese Sandwich, or Seinfeld, and if you don't know him, you're dead to me, well not yet anyway."

He then noticed who appeared to be a important dignitary, "I don't suppose you're going to the gala too?"

"Why yes, yes I am." The pony said, "how'd you know?"

"Lucky guess." He deadpanned, "but like the other pony, your fate will be at the gala, but at a different time."
> The Last Duel
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The twenty-fifth annual Grand Galloping Gala would be boring, as always. Usually, Celestia would be frustrated by the monotony, but this year she hoped to use the celebration as an excuse to distract herself from the upcoming parliamentary meeting. Being surrounded by the ponies she needed to convince had the opposite effect.

Last week, Celestia had asked Luna's advice for turning their opinion to pass the law she had drafted.

"A ban on duels? Art thou mad, sister? The nobility loves nothing more than its traditions. Removing one of the oldest ones is a terrible idea. Truly, thou should know better."

It didn't matter that Celestia had shown the staggering statistics of duel deaths, that most of those ponies were maimed or killed over laughably minor offenses. Luna had stayed firm. Duels were a part of the world. No one would want to change them. How else are ponies supposed to resolve their differences?

She'd mulled over the problem since then, and determined that she wouldn't propose the law until the nobility's opinions had shifted. As much as it pained her to admit it, Luna was right. Not one member of the parliament even entertained the idea that duels could be done away with. How could she convince them that there was another way

Now that all the guests had arrived, she could spend her time probing their opinions. She wandered the room, listening to fragments of conversations.

"The changelings won't stand for it, even with the threat. If the counter-attack..."

"She was absolutely wonderful. Truly a delight. Really, I pity those who didn't get to see..."

"An invitation. Personally addressed to me. From Luna herself, no less."

Celestia turned to the stallion that had spoken. He wore an ascot over his gray hair, silver mane reflecting light in an irritating way.

"Truly? What hast thou done to catch her attention?" a mare asked him.

"I don't know. It arrived only three days ago. I had to suspend all my affairs to make it. After all, how could I ignore the wishes of a princess?"

Celestia cleared her throat. He turned to face her.

"Your highness!" he said. He and the mare bowed.

"What is thine name?" Celestia asked.

"Silver Leaf, your highness."

"Thou claims to have an invitation from Luna?"

"Yes, your highness. I have it with me right here."

His horn glowed, and a piece of paper floated out of his pocket. It was Luna's signature, all right.

"Have thou spoken with our sister before?"

"No, your highness. I was as surprised as anyone to receive this. As I was just telling my friend here—"

A trumpet blared to the royal tune. Celestia had entered many rooms accompanied by this music. Luna must have arrived. Sure enough, the crier declared her presence, and everyone except Celestia bowed at the entryway.

Luna was great at looking like a princess. Instead of a dress, she wore a black tunic with a decorative sword strapped to her belt. Despite the simple outfit, no one could mistake her for a commoner. The way she held her head and glided through the room left no space for doubt.

She walked directly to Celestia.

"Sister," Celestia said, with a curt nod. They hadn't spoken since their argument last week.

"What art thou doing with this cur?" Luna asked. She gestured to Silver Leaf the same way one might point to a pile of vomit.

"Excuse me?" Silver Leaf asked.

"Come, sister. He is not worth our time."

Luna turned and walked away, clearly expecting Celestia to follow. For a moment, she considered staying, to spite her, but they needed to put on a unified act in front of the nobility. She caught up with Luna.

"Thou invited him," Celestia whispered to her sister. "Why the hostility?"

Luna either ignored her or didn't hear.

Celestia kept her irritation at bay. Luna should know better than to insult somepony she personally invited to the gala. The nobles paid attention to what the princesses said. Before the night was over, everyone at the party would know Luna had called him a cur. They loved nothing more than their gossip.

She shot a glance back at him over her shoulder. He busied himself guzzling down a tankard of cider. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping to find peace. Instead, she heard the voices all around her.

"...trust Luna? Surely, she wouldn't have done this without a good reason. A princess should..."

"He's only a baron. What is he doing here, making her so upset? I would think..."

"His daughter was injured last week. Hasn't the stallion suffered enough? Why would..."

And so on.

Celestia snapped out of it. Luna had led her to the back of the room. The two of them lorded over the party like... well, like princesses.

"We didn't expect thee to make an appearance," said Celestia.

"Thou expected wrong," said Luna

The guests went about their business, only giving the princesses occasional glances. Celestia knew from experience that most of them would want to talk to her for some reason or another. Her current place in the room made her seem unapproachable. To engage a princess in conversation, a pony would need to walk a considerable distance and prostrate themselves in front of everyone. If they said anything wrong, all would hear it. Most ponies would look for a less harrowing opportunity. No one would bother them up here.

If Celestia weren't still annoyed with Luna, she would have thanked her. She needed time to herself, and standing before the nobility, she had no responsibilities other than looking regal. She'd done that for so long she didn't know if she could stop. The two of them standing there all night would almost count as an evening off in her book.

The party went as she expected.

For a while, anyway.

At some point Luna walked into the crowd, so abruptly Celestia didn't notice at first. She didn't bother following her this time.

Luna always moved with purpose, and Celestia guessed what that purpose was well before she approached Silver Leaf.

He was partway through another glass of cider when he looked up and noticed her.

"Princess," he said in a much louder voice than earlier, "to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Why art thou still here?" asked Luna.

"Whatever do you mean? You invited me, remember?"

He waved the invitation in her face. She grabbed it with her magic and ripped it in half.

"A forgery. Tell us, why would thou do such a thing?"

Celestia frowned. If the invitation were a fake, then it was a good one. Still, Luna would know if she wrote it or not. Perhaps Celestia hadn't examined it close enough.

Silver Leaf looked like he'd been punched in the gut. "I... I didn't know, princess. I received the invitation in the mail, and thought it was genuine. I'm truly sorry."

"Sorry isn't good enough, thou bespawling dalcop. Bow to thine princess, and beg forgiveness."

The room had fallen silent.

Silver Leaf looked like he didn't understand what she had said. He stood there, dumbstruck.

"Art thou deaf as well as dumb?"

That got through to him. He bowed, forehead on the floor.

"It must be comfortable, down in thine natural habitat. Don't worry, we won't judge thou for being a rakefire. There are plenty of other deficiencies for us to point out."

Celestia heard some murmurs from the crowd. The stallion had apologized as ordered, and she would continue to insult him?

"We know that a raggabrash like thou won't understand our words, so we will say it simply, so a child would understand. The key to fixing thine faults is such a daunting task that it will remain a great mystery for generations to come. Perhaps a solution could be found in a million years.

"Of course, that hardly matters, considering that were thou given the opportunity to improve thine wretched soul, thou would turn away, preferring to be a pediculous fobdoodle for the rest of thine days. Of course, that is too generous, as if thou chose to be useless, it would be an improvement from thine current station. Even such a simple thing is beyond thine ability."

Luna was going too far. Celestia approached her to intervene.

"Truly, to become a cumberworld is the best thou can hope for. Though, before thou leaves our presence for good, perhaps thou would like to tell us what really broke thine daughter's leg last week? For we know it wasn't the staircase, as thou proclaimed. So, tell the good ponies who is responsible for the injury."

Celestia stopped moving. A few murmurs came from the room, and Silver Leaf looked up from his bow.

She could see the hatred in his eyes. With that accusation, Luna had ruined his life. The word of a princess is the most respected of witness testimonies. Everypony would consider it the truth. If he didn't object, his best hope for the future was to live in exile for the rest of his days.

There was nothing left for him to do but slink away like an injured dog.

Instead, he stood up.

"How dare you?" he said. "I have done nothing to deserve this. A princess should know better than to slander her own subjects."

"Art thou doubting our word?"

"Of course I doubt it! It's false. I will prove it."

Luna leaned forward. "How?"

"I challenge you to a duel!"

The room was dead silent. No one dared make a noise.

Luna seemed unperturbed. "Very well. Draw thine sword."

"What, now?" he asked.

"But of course. As the challenged party, we have the right to declare the time, place, and weaponry. We will fight thou here and now, with swords."

With the glow of her horn, Luna's sword flew out of its scabbard with an impressive but wholly unnecessary flourish. Its sapphire hilt complimented the dark glow of her magical aura. She floated it in front of her face, point toward the ceiling. The traditional pose to hold while waiting for an opponent.

Silver Leaf looked at the sword, sweat dripping down his brow. He stammered incomprehensibly, nervously glancing around the room until his eyes locked with Celestia's.

"Princess Celestia! Surely, this is highly unusual. Please, put an end to this."

Celestia scanned her mind for a law Luna had violated.

"No seconds have been named," she said. "It must be done before—"

"Our sister will be our second," Luna declared. She glanced to the side of the room, met eyes with one of her night guards. "Thou will be his second."

"Yes, your highness," the guard responded.

"Now we have seconds," said Luna. "Draw thine sword."

Celestia would give Luna a stern talk about her manners in private. Hopefully, this nonsense would be over soon and she could get back to her important business of standing regally.

She cleared her throat.

"Luna has not violated any law. We will intervene if she does."

It was the truth, and everyone knew it. While it was common for challenged parties to set the duel date days or weeks later, that was only tradition. There wasn't anything stopping the challenged from demanding the fight immediately.

Silver Leaf would probably drop the charge and apologize. While ponies would call him a coward and a fool for revoking a challenge right after giving it, he had nothing left to lose. His reputation was already in shambles.

Instead, he drew his own sword, mirroring Luna's pose. It was a simple weapon, pristine with its steel shine.

A few gasps came from the crowd. Clearly Celestia wasn't the only one who thought all his talk was bravado.

Though, now that she gave it a second thought, she understood why he would do this. His life had been ruined by Luna. Maybe, in his mind, dying here would be more honorable than wasting away in exile. And, on the off chance he won the duel, her accusation against him would be considered slander. Legally, he would win the argument, and it could never be used against him again. He was brave, stupid, or drunk to gamble his life on such a slim chance.

It was no secret that Luna's skills with the sword were exceptional. Celestia had never bothered learning the art of the duel. She figured she could depend on her magic in a fight. It was more reliable. Luna usually fought with her magic as well, though she dedicated considerable time to learning swordplay. Celestia had asked her why she bothered, and Luna had said at least one princess must develop this skill. What a strange reason.

"Sister, will thou judge us?" Luna asked.

All eyes turned to Celestia. Of course they would depend on her.

"Very well. Start on our mark."

The crowd moved to the fringes of the room, giving the duelists a wide berth. Luna and Silver Leaf stared at each other, paying their surroundings no notice.

"Three..."

Luna's face was calm, poised. She looked like she was pondering an existential question.

"Two..."

Silver Leaf's chest rose and fell rapidly. He wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead.

"One. Begin."

Luna walked toward Silver Leaf, keeping her eyes on him. Once in striking distance, she slammed her sword down. He intercepted the blade at the last second, clearly struggling under her strength.

She feinted to the right, then struck left. She sliced his side. He cringed back, glancing at his wound. It didn't look deep. He could keep going.

Luna paused, staring him down. She wanted him to make the next move.

He took a deep breath, then took a step towards her. The moment his hoof hit the floor she attacked again, a flurry of strikes he barely kept up with.

Silver Leaf was clearly outmatched. Luna really should have won already. Celestia had seen her sister in combat enough times to know her ability, and this, while impressive, was not her full potential. She must be holding back for some reason.

Why?

The fight continued in this vein. Luna completely dominating Silver Leaf, then letting him recuperate before assaulting him again.

This gave Celestia hope that she wouldn't kill him. The pauses must be there to give him time to reconsider. Duels officially ended either with a death or when one party conceded. Luna, for all her hot-headedness, must be going for a victory by forfeit.

Celestia breathed a sigh of relief. Killing a party guest in front of everyone was generally considered to be impolite.

Occasionally, Silver Leaf would fail to parry a blow. He accumulated a few scratches around his body, but nothing seriously debilitating. That must be on purpose. If Luna wanted to kill him, he would have been dead already.

His breathing was harried, his posture hunched. He took a moment to examine his surroundings. All eyes on him. Judging him. If the other ponies thoughts were anything like Celestia's, they considered him a fool, a monster. Everyone knew Luna would win. Nopony was on his side.

With a sigh, he tossed his sword to the ground.

"This is ridiculous," he said. "I con—"

Luna stabbed him in the throat.

He looked at the sword sticking out of his neck as if he didn't quite believe it was there. He fell to the floor, blood gushing from the wound.

Celestia ran over to him. He was dead by the time she arrived.

Luna picked up her sword and put it back into her scabbard without wiping it. The blood seeped through, leaving steady droplets like a leaky faucet.

She spread her wings, flew above everyone, landed in front of an open window, then paused. She looked over the crowd, posing majestically, as if she had just accomplished a great deed. For a moment it looked like she would say something, but ultimately flew off without a word.

Celestia turned her attention back to the corpse on the floor. She levitated a tablecloth and placed it over his body. Blood seeped through its pristine stitching.

Now, everypony looked at her.

"The gala is over," she declared.

###

Celestia barged into Luna's room. She sat in a chair, clearly expecting her.

"What was the meaning of that?" Celestia asked. "Such a display is unbecoming of a princess. Thou should know better."

"Thanks aren't necessary," Luna said.

"Thanks? What would we ever thank thou for?"

Luna gestured to the table. Celestia saw her draft of the law banning duels sat there.

"We looked over the data, and thine arguments. The logic is sound. We lose too many nobles and commoners alike for petty reasons. Does thou know of the baron killed for calling a juniper tree an elm?"

"Of course we do. We compiled those examples."

"They are convincing. Thou should propose the law tomorrow."

"Don't change the subject. Thou just murdered a noble in the middle of a party."

"No. We dueled. Thou of all ponies should know that, while unorthodox, nothing illegal occurred."

Celestia took a deep breath. "We know. That doesn't excuse thine behavior. If thou wants duels outlawed, why would thou do this?"

Luna's expression looked the same as when she fought Silver Leaf. Contemplative.

"These examples aren't enough to convince the nobility," she said. "They needed something more... concrete."

"What art thou saying?"

"Imagine tonight's events from their perspective. At the gala, one of the princesses invited a baron under false pretenses, accused him of a crime, goaded him into a duel, and killed him while he tried to concede. Tell us, what would thou think, in their place?"

That duels are dangerous. That the princesses could kill me any time they wanted, on any whim, well within legal bounds. That my life wasn't as safe under their rule as I thought it was.

"Thou wanted them to question duels on their own, before we proposed it."

Luna nodded.

"Thou should have informed us of this plan, sister. We would have stopped you."

"That's exactly why we kept it to ourselves," said Luna.

"So thou went behind our back to help us."

"Yes."

"It's improper and dishonest. Thou never should have done such a thing."

Luna scoffed. "Please, sister. How long would it have taken thou to convince the parliament to approve thine law? Years, at least. In the meantime, ponies would keep dying, legally. Once we were aware of this, we sought to fix it. This will be the last duel. Thou will propose the law tomorrow, and it will pass. We have demonstrated every flaw with the system tonight. No one can object now."

"Unless they try to reform the law. Make the tradition of waiting law, or some other half-measure. Thou didn't think this through."

"Nonsense. We will make it clear that we will exploit any loophole they try to throw our way. The only option is to outlaw the practice. All it took was one more death."

Celestia paused. "Tell us, that crime thou accused him of, was it true?"

"Of course. We learned the truth through his daughter's dreams. She will take over the barony. Her mind is good with numbers. The region should prosper under her rule."

"And she won't resent thou for killing her father?"

"Whose idea did thou think it was to make him the target? We have earned a loyal subject for life."

It seemed so tidy. Luna had thought of everything. Celestia had her reservations, but she knew that this push would get the law passed. Even if the methods were wrong, she couldn't ignore the opportunity. Still...

"Why does thou play to their fears? All this duplicity... it isn't the sister we grew up with."

Luna gazed out the window. The twinkling stars were clear in the night sky.

"They love thou more than us. Don't try to deny it. They respect the sun, and fear the moon. If we can't change their minds, then we might as well play to their expectations."

"Is that what thou wants?"

Luna waited a moment before responding. "What I want doesn't matter."

Celestia couldn't remember the last time Luna forgot to use the royal we. When they were fillies, maybe. How many centuries ago had it been? She had a hard time keeping track.

"Luna, please understand—"

"There is nothing to understand. We play to our type. Thou are loved, and there is no room for a second. The only noble thing to do is accept our place in the hierarchy."

"There must be another way."

"Really? What is it, then?"

It wasn't Luna's fault that Celestia was more popular. Really, if it bothered her the problem could be easily remedied.

Probably.

"Not killing ponies would be a good place to start."

"We did that for thine benefit. It is what thou wanted."

"Not like this."

"Of course our methods displease you. We are the pariah. We sacrificed our reputation for thou, and have nothing in return. Thou knows of all we do for the good of Equestria?"

"There in no point in martyring thine self."

Luna scoffed. "The only reason thou art able to be self-righteous is because of thine delegation of all the dirty work to us. We swim in the blood so thou can stay clean. A simple acknowledgment of this fact would be appreciated, at least once."

"But it's unnecessary!" said Celestia. "What thou does can only be noble if there are truly no other options. That wasn't the case here. Thou bloodied thine sword much too soon."

Luna sighed. "Sometimes, we wonder how thou can bear to rule. Please, Celestia. We are not unreasonable. Enlighten us as to why we are wrong to do what thou wanted."

Celestia looked at Luna. The princess of the night, the swordmaster, the general, the ruler of Equestria. Her sister. She knew Luna needed her. There must be something she could say to make her feel better. She searched for the right words and couldn't find them.

Instead, she said, "We will search for an answer suitable for a princess."

Luna didn't respond. Celestia left the room without glancing back at her.

###

"Princess! Look what I found!" Twilight said after bursting into Celestia's office.

The princess set down her quill and looked at the filly. When she saw what she held in her mouth, she resisted the urge to gasp.

"Where did you find that?" Celestia asked.

"In the vault!"

"I told you not to go in there unaccompanied. There are dangerous magical artifacts that could cause you serious harm."

Twilight looked at the floor. "Sorry."

Celestia took the sword from Twilight, levitating it in the air. The sapphire handle had chipped and dulled with time, and the scabbard looked old and rusted. Apparently, Luna had never wiped off the blood.

"Why did you bring this to me?" she asked.

"It's your sword, right?"

"No."

"Oh. I thought this was the sapphire sword that you used to fight the last duel."

Celestia froze. "The last duel? What are you talking about?"

"You know, how you fought hundreds of ponies to end dueling."

"I... haven't heard this story. Could you tell me?"

"How have you not heard it? You lived it!"

"I want to hear how you'd describe it."

Twilight beamed. She loved telling stories.

"Long ago, ponies dueled each other, and lots of them died. Then, you decided that dueling had to end, so you said that you would be anyone's champion. If they were challenged to a duel, you would fight for them. You fought hundreds of duels, and never lost. So nopony ever wanted to challenge anymore, because they knew they'd fight you, and you'd beat them. So dueling ended. The end."

"That was a nice story," said Celestia. "Where did you hear it?"

"I read it."

"Do you remember what book?"

"Yeah! Do you want it?"

"Fetch it for me later."

Twilight nodded. "So, this is the sword, right? The one you used to fight all those duels?"

"Twilight, I have never fought a duel."

The filly looked crestfallen. "What? Never?"

"Never. The story you heard was a lie."

"But I read it in a book!"

"Not every book tells the truth."

She looked confused by that.

"But then... how did the duels end?"

"I proposed a law, and the parliament passed it."

"Really?"

"Yes. It was a standard meeting, nothing very exciting."

"But... what was the real last duel?"

Celestia looked at the sword again. An ancient relic from a forgotten time.

"I don't remember. It probably wasn't very interesting."

"Aw. I wanted to know!"

Celestia looked down to console Twilight, but stopped when she noticed the rust stains on her lips.

"Why didn't you pick this up with telekinesis?"

"It was too hard to use magic!"

"Let's get you a tetanus shot."

"I don't want a shot!"

"Too bad. You should have thought of that before you put rusted metal in your mouth."

She called for a guard and ordered him to get Twilight to a doctor. He escorted the filly away while she protested the whole time.

When she was alone, Celestia examined the sword again. It seemed wrong for her to be levitating it. Luna's magical aura had looked so beautiful with the sapphire hilt.

It made her nauseous. She tucked the sword away in a drawer and tried to push it out of her mind.

When Nightmare Moon had emerged from within Luna, she had monologued at Celestia. Taunting her, saying that she would never have the courage to kill her own sister. She had been right, in a way. Celestia had found a loophole, and managed to spare Luna and vanquish the Nightmare all at once.

Still, she had lived long enough to know that a loophole couldn't always be found. Sometimes, no matter how distasteful, she would be forced into a decision she didn't want to make. Of course she had made mistakes. Of course she had regrets. Of course she couldn't always do things the right way, the way she wanted. To count all the times she had compromised her integrity...

Thinking about it for too long gave her a headache.

Fortunately, there was an upcoming parliamentary meeting she could focus on. She'd been tinkering with a new law, trying to make it palatable for the representatives, but couldn't figure out how to make everyone happy. Dealing with politicians was brutal.

She glanced at the drawer.

It could be worse.
> Part 23
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Honestly, I think that particular duel is why we don't have them anymore... and I'm okay with that, but I'm not okay with you." He turned to face a griffon, who appeared to be wearing an executioner's uniform.

"When do you expect the storm to be over, I don't mean to be impatient, but I'm supposed to be at a prison in Manehattan, I work there as an executioner and I don't want to be late."

"Well I think you meant to say you used to be an executioner..."
> The Griffon Who Was Death
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was a dark and stormy night on the streets of Manehattan, which is kind of fitting for an execution. For in one of the state prisons one of the prisoners was being dragged to his fatal end in the chair, all the while shouting and kicking and screaming, but to no avail, when he saw the chair he desperately shouted, "Wait a minute! Just...wait a minute! He's gonna call! The governor's gonna call! He's gonna get me to stay! Yes, he will! No, no! The governor's gonna call! He's got to! He's got to!"

Watching the scene unfold was a griffon named Edgar, he just shook his head, and once the preparations are made, he threw the switch, and watched as the unlucky guy litterally got the shock of his life, until he stopped moving and his head slowly looked down at the ground, afterwards, he walked away, a smile forming on his face.

As the days went by, Edgar soon became popular amongst every creature, specifically the prisons outside of the city limits, whenever he was off duty, he'd be at that prison as a guest of honor, there he witnessed the other types of executions that prison used. Hanging, firing squad, gas chamber, guillotine, you name it, he would watch with satisfaction that the condemned was getting it, of course, he would sometimes be one to perform the execution, since it was his job, and he loved everything about it.

But of course, all good things must come to an end...

"What do you mean there isn't any executions today?!"

"I'm sorry, but there doesn't seem to be any scheduled for today, every creature seems to be behaving themselves more often lately." The commissioner said, "I hope you're not worried."

"I'm not worried, there's always tomorrow."

But Edgar slowly became worried, for the death sentence seems to be carried out less and less so with each passing day. Until his popularity with the other prisons died away, so he spent his time in his home whenever there wasn't anything, thought to himself, "well, it could be worse."

It got worse...

"and in other news, the mayor of Manehattan has made the decision to ban the death penalty in the city, claiming it was 'immoral and inhumane', of course this brought a serious amount of controversy, as protests consisting of  families of deceased murder victims started to form across the area, claiming 'we must fight death with death', there will be more on this story as it develops, but for now let's go to our weather pony Ollie for tomorrow's weather.

"IT'S GOING TO RAIN!!!

"Thanks Ollie."

Edgar paced the entire length of his apartment, after the ban, he lost his job, so now he just paces while losing his mind.

"this is a test. Yeah, that's what it is, a test. They want to see if I can last, if I fail, they'll take my job away. Well I won't have it, I'm an executioner,  and as such, I'll do what I have to do."

And so, because he was desperate, Edgar began to attend the trials in order to know his victims, the first was a pony accused of killing his brother over the family fortune.

"And so, we find the defendant, mister Cosby... not guilty of murder in the first degree."

After the trial Cosby, unaware of a griffon watching him, made his way to a large mansion with a metal gate out in front, which he began to climb... only to feel a huge jolt of electricity surge through his body, and then dropped to the ground.

Edgar smiled at this Justice, it wasn't the same as the chair, but it had to do, he removed the wires connected to the gate, and went back to his apartment to wait for the next trial.

"And so, because of a lack of evidence, and because I just want to go home and watch "Mad About You", I find the "Sons Of Sombra" gang not guilty."

A short while later, Edgar followed the S.O.S gang at a safe distance to their destination, just as he did before with Cosby, finally arriving at a little house, where a little pool party was taking place, consisting of only the gang and some mares that appeared to be from the streets.

Silently, he watched the whole scene, until one of the members noticed the peeping tom, "Hey spoilsport! What're doing there by the fence."

"None of your business." He snapped back.

"Well I'm the host here got it. Now you can either get out of clothes and into the pool or get out of here. We don't want any spoilsports here, we're here to have a swinging time!" Every pony was cheering at this, mostly because they just wanted to party.

"Oh yeah, well swing on this." Edgar took a space heater that happened to be near him, and chucked it into the pool, and the party was quickly cut short, permanently.

As the days went by, Edgar continued to do his extracurricular activities, there was mr. Spacey, accused of murdering 3 employees at his office building, he got quite a shock when a wire fell onto a puddle he just happened to step into.

There was also mrs. Borden, she was held responsible for murdering her father and stepmother, she was silenced by electrified water when she took a shower. All the while Edgar's sanity became more and more lost, and the reports of the deaths became more and more frequent.

"And in other news, another victim has been claimed in the series of electric deaths that has plagued the city for weeks, a bum that was nearby claims to have witnessed the crime."

"Yeah, so this guy was just walking along all innocent like, you know, next thing I know, he's being shocked by this bug zapper thing that fell and hit this puddle, and boom he's dead."

"Anyway, all citizens are advised to take precautions to avoid being a victim themselves, there will be more on this story as it develops, let's check in with Ollie and the storm that's currently making its way up the coast. What's happening Ollie?"

"IT'S RAINING SIDEWAYS!"

"Sounds rough Ollie, do you have an umbrella?"

"HAD ONE!!"

"Where is it?"

INSIDE OUT TWO MILES AWAY!!!"

"Is there anything we can do for you?"

"BRING ME SOME PIZZA!!!!"

"What kind?"

"PEPPERONI!!!!!"

"Alright we'll get on that."

Shining armor turned off the TV, not wanting to hear anything about the deaths, ever since he and Flash were assigned to investigate on behalf of the princesses, they've heard nothing but discussions about them. He walked into one of the offices where flash and a detective named Drebin were sitting at a desk.

"I just don't understand it." He said to the other two, "There have several deaths in the past few days, and the only connection they have is that they were tried and set free at their trials."

Drebin shook his head sadly, "It's ironic isn't it, they were free from being sent to the chair, but fate decided to take them anyway."

"I don't think these were accidents." Flash said, "I took a look at the wire that killed Spacey, it looked as if it was cut, it could be possible that there's a murderer on the loose."

"Well there's only one way to find out." Drebin said, looking at both flash and shining, "you boys keep an eye on mr. Bates, if you're right about your murderer theory, there's no doubt they'll strike again."

Later that night, Bates, obviously declared not guilty, walked down the park path with the two guards following close behind, Shining's nerves were already splitting under the strain, knowing that any moment someone or something was going to bring an end to Bates' life.

Unbeknownst to the trio, a certain griffon was watching and waiting for Bates to cross his path, right next to him was the park's fountain, which had electric wires running into it.

Once Bates was near, Edgar slowly but surely made his way to the unsuspecting pony... That was when a sudden lightning storm illuminated the park for a brief moment, but in that moment of light, the ponies saw the outline of him leering at his victim.

"HEY"

Edgar was nearly tackled by flash, who had nearly landed in the fountain, but he hit his head on the concrete, leaving him dazed. This gave him a chance to make a break for it... But he found that he couldn't move, before he could say anything, he was suddenly turned around and saw the other guard had trapped him in a blue aura, and he had a stern look on his face, "you're under arrest for murdering several innocent civilians as well as breaking the city's ban on the death penalty, anything you say now can and will be used against you in court."

"and in other news, the police and royal guard have finally solved the case of the electric deaths, apparently the culprit was the state prison executioner Edgar Gacy who claimed that he was, and I quote "only doing his job", the mayor, seeing what has resulted from his decision, has decided to take executive action, we don't know the details yet, but until then, here's tomorrow's weather with our weather pony Ollie. 

"IT'S GONNA BE HOT!"

"Thank you Ollie... that dude needs to stop shouting."

"CLIMATE CHANGE!!"

"OLLIE CUT THAT OUT."

Drebin turned off the TV and turned to face the griffon handcuffed to the desk, well Edgar, I've got good news for you, the mayor has decided to reinstate the death penalty." A wide smile appeared on his face, "And guess who's the first to be executed."

At first Edgar was relieved when he heard about the reinstating, but the way he said that last sentence confused him, but when two guards arrived to escort him to the prison, his eyes widened, for he finally figured out who was first in today's executions.

And so, in a twist of fate Edgar was being dragged to his fatal end in the chair, all the while shouting and kicking and screaming, but to no avail, when he saw the chair he desperately shouted, "Wait a minute! Just...wait a minute! He's gonna call! The governor's gonna call! He's gonna get me to stay! Yes, he will! No, no! The governor's gonna call! He's got to! He's got to!"

Just like last time, the guards were unfazed, especially when he was strapped to the chair, "please, I was just doing my job." He said pathetically.

The last thing he saw, was the new executioner pulling the switch.
> Part 24
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I must say, when you really love your job, you go all out just to keep it, or in your case commit several murders of so many innocent lives." Vlad said, "and speaking of murdering the innocent."

Vlad made his way to the bathrooms, and sure enough, he saw a griffon, a dragon, a cart, and a pony chattering away...

"I can't believe it was so easy to kill my brother." The griffon said.

"And once we get to your lawyer's office, all of his money will be ours." The dragon said.

"Who'd ever suspect that we pushed him under the train." The pony said.

"Sshh." The cat shushed them, "be quiet you idiot, someone could hear us."

Then they heard a chuckling sound behind them, turning around, they saw you know who standing there with an amused smile.

"I'm afraid that's where you're wrong my Good creatures, for someone did know the truth, and they are none too pleased..."
> We Ain't Got No Body
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Normally on a calm, orderly night, you would go do things like throwing parties, have a night on the town, or bring home a pretty mare for a quick... study session.

But this wasn't the case for a particular griffon who was frantically packing his things into his suitcase, mainly some cash and his fancy electronics, he didn't care if anything was broken, or if he forgot a few things, he just had to get away before he gets here.

Once he was sure he has everything, the griffon rushed for the door, when it suddenly burst open, and there stood the figure he was dreading to see. Odd thing about the figure, his torso seemed to be fine, but his face and limbs seemed to have been rotting away.

"H-Henry!!" The griffon said, recognizing the figure as his brother, "It can't be! You're supposed to be dead." Desperately, he reached for a pistol that happened to be on a nearby table."

"go ahead Norton." Henry said, "Shoot me, it won't do you any good." He was suddenly interrupted by Norton firing his gun multiple times in his chest... but he was still standing, "Okay, that was both rude and stupid, you're helpless now."

"Henry please don't do this." Norton cried desperately, putting his claws together and in a pleading position, "It was their idea I swear, have mercy on me please!"

"And just why should I give you mercy. You, Charlie, Sid, and Jesse didn't show me mercy that night on the train." Henry said as both griffons thoughts went back to that fateful day...





"I remember it quite well Norton, the five of us were on our way to Canterlot by train to do some shopping, which is where you planned to do what you've done."

In one of the train cars, a griffon, a dragon, a cat, and a pony were chatting away about something that seemed important to them, with the cat having a curious look, "Are you sure Henry named you as his benefactor Norton?"

"I'm positive Jesse." Norton said, "there's enough money to divide between the four of us, now listen closely..."

A few minutes later, Henry walked into the car, only to bump into the gang, "Hey, what's going on guys?"

"Oh, we thought we'd go back to the club car and play a little game of Uno, you in?" Norton said, hiding their intentions.

"Sure let's go."

They had just made their way between the cars, when Henry was grabbed by the other four, with Jesse and Sid on one side of him, pinning his talons to his side and his wings to his back, and Norton and Charlie on the other.

"Hey what's going-" Before he knew it, he was thrown between the cars and onto the tracks, where he felt the sharp, fast moving wheels cutting him.

Meanwhile, Norton pulled the emergency cord, forcing the train to stop, and the conductor to make his way to the boys, "what's going on here?"

"It's my brother, he fell between the cars!" Norton said going into his act, just hoping they'd buy it.

And sure enough, they did, the conductor and two others searched the tracks for Henry, and they found what was left of him. "Do you think he's dead?" One of the helpers asked. 

"He should be." The conductor said, "after all, no creature can survive getting their heads and limbs severed from them, now come on, we've got get to the station, the princess is expecting one of the passengers."

"And that was that, you collected the insurance and the money I left you as a beneficiary, of course a week later, that was when all your troubles began.

The royal guard stood outside of a shattered window of a Macy's department store, with police tape and bewildered looks on their faces.

"I don't understand it." One guard said, looking at the head, and limbs of a department store mannequin, "They could've just taken the money and run, but instead they took the body of a mannequin."

"Of course, it wasn't long before our friends were being murdered, with sid being the first."

Just like the department store robbery, there was yellow tape and guards, but instead of a store, there was a body of a pony... missing its head and limbs.

"I don't understand." One guard said, "who would do a thing like this?"

"I don't know, but I have a feeling this'll be the start of something.," Shining armor said.

"That guard was right, I had to wait a few days because of the increase in patrols, and when they did die down, I went for Jesse next."

"Dismembered, just like the last one." Said Shining, staring down at Jesse's body, "There must be a maniac on the loose, tell all guards too keep an out for anything suspicious, and tell every creature to be on high alert."

"But that proved to be no help either, because a few days later, Charlie was the next victim, and judging by the suitcase he had, he was planning on hiding until all this blows over."

"Another one." Shining said, "who ever's doing this must be very strong, tough, and crazy to this to a dragon."





"So you see Norton, we stole that mannequin." Henry said to Norton, who was now backed up against the corner, "my head, front claws, and back paws stole it so we could get around without suspicion, and so we could do what we had to do."

Later, the warm, silent night was shattered by agonizing screams coming from the penthouse suite, and when the guards arrived, they found Norton obviously like the others... but this time, there was an open window, and the thought to be lost body of a mannequin.

Meanwhile, miles away from the scene, an odd group consisting of four limbs and a head, made their through the cemetery, with the head looking around, as if it was searching for something. Suddenly they stopped at the site they've been longing to see...




Here lies

Henry boddy
R.I.P




The claws were already digging away at the ground before the tombstone, until they reached the coffin. Then they smashed a hole in it and the claws and head went inside.

The front claws reconnected with the shoulders and crossed each other in the usual funeral fashion, while the back paws reconnected with the hip joint, and the head reconnected with the neck, finally closed its eyes, and a satisfied smile grew on its beak.
> Part 25
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Vlad left the four creatures in the bathroom, each with bewildered looks on their faces, and moved to a table that was next to five ponies, "I hope he won't mind us being late for his dinner party."

"Oh I'm afraid he will." Vlad said, "and the dinner party is everything but..."
> Just desserts
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The guards looked down at the restrained pony on the couch with solemn looks on their faces. The pony had everything going great for him, but now he's like this. One of the guards arrived with a syringe, and proceeded to inject it into the pony. In a few seconds, he calmed down, and said "I'm glad I did it you see, I had to do it."

"I'm afraid we don't sir." One of the guards said, "would you care to tell us why you did it?"

"Well, my memory's a little woozy, but I'll try my best to remember." The pony said, trying to remember everything that led up to this point.





"I had everything going great for me, back then, a loving wife, a young son, even a successful business, everypony I knew was a little bit jealous of my success. But one day, my wife fell ill from a cancer of some kind, she never made it. I was upset about her being gone, but little did I know that it was the start of a downward spiral to nowhere, starting with a newly hired nanny named fanny."

"Fanny, this is my son Jimmy, I need you too keep an eye on him while I'm off at work."

"Yes Mr. Bernard." Fanny said.

"But alas, I made a terrible mistake hiring her to look after my boy, because of her I lost him to the market."

At the market, Fanny was looking at the fascinating things that the market has to offer, and thus, she never noticed little Jimmy wander off, into the bustling streets, and into the path of a runaway cart.

"in my opinion, it was a stupid thing she did, because she didn't use her head, not only was my son gone, but also what was left of my first wife. My second wife Nora and my best friend Nevel did their best to comfort me, to no avail. But things only got worse from there."

"Just pad your bills over to our company Richard." Said Preston, an old business partner of Bernard, "I'll okay them and give you 20%."

Richard, however, was confused by this, "Are you sure? Something like this could drive you out of business."

"That's what I want to do you idiot, drive Bernard out of business."

Unbeknownst to Preston, Bernard heard the whole thing on their intercom system... and boy was he mad.

"It was a bonehead mistake Preston Made, planning the whole thing in the office, all because he didn't use his head. But either way, I had to raise enough money to keep my business going. But every dollar I made Preston supposedly 'lost', on the day the money was due, I paid a visit to my aunt narissa, hoping she'd give me the necessary amount. 

"But auntie, you don't understand, I need $5,000 to keep me going until I find a way to expose Preston, I'll even pay you back I swear."

"Forget it Bernie." Narissa said, "I always said you'd be a worthless tramp, and I was right."

Dejected, Bernard went back to his office, Preston was there, with a solemn look on his face, "I'm afraid we're done for Bernie, but at least I have a little something to tide me over."

"That little something was the money he supposedly lost, and he was back in business within the week, so now I had nothing but my best friend and my wife.

"Bernie was wiped out today Nevel, I don't know what to do now." Nora said to Nevel, whom she invited over for a talk.

"Well since your his wife Nora, you'll have to comfort him, after all he really loves you."

"But I don't love him... I married him for the money his wife left him." She confessed, "when he could get me what I wanted, I tolerated him, I even felt a little sorry when he lost his son, I felt a little sad for him, and I couldn't help but fall in love with you when I saw you at the funeral."

"Oh you have, huh." Nevel said, "well I guess we wasted all this time, because I fell in love with you the moment I saw you."

"They thought I wasn't listening, that I was in a drunken stupor, but I heard everything, and since I wouldn't give her a divorce, the two started an affair with each other, but because they didn't use their heads, I caught them in the act."

Bernard stood rooted to the spot as he saw his wife and best friend were making out, both oblivious to his presence, they thought he was still out since he had to get a job to make up for his losses, but he came back early, and he was enraged to see them do a thing like this.





"So now you know why I did it, they all ruined my life, but didn't use their heads, and if any creature doesn't use their heads, then they don't need them."

The guards followed his gaze to a kitchen table, where five bodies sat stiff and lifeless. The bodies of the nanny that cost him his son, the business partner that stole his business, the aunt that never bothered to help him, the gold digging wife, and who he thought was his best friend, all sitting at the table, all sitting like they didn't know the guards were there... all without their heads.
> Part 26
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

"I must admit, you guys might be the most heartless people I've ever met, and considering my profession, that's usually a compliment." Vlad said.

After that tale, the strange pony proceeded to observe the remaining guests he hadn't told stories too; A pony in what appeared to be a baseball uniform, a delivery pony, and a griffin and a pony in archeological uniforms. For a while, he looked at the four creatures, until deciding on the baseball pony.

"I take it by your suit your a baseball fan." He inquired.

"Not exactly." The pony said, "I'm actually supposed to be at a game tomorrow, and it's the final game of the season, if the storm lets up I should of plenty of time to set up my plan to win."

"Well, I think you should consider this storm a blessing." Vlad said, narrowing his eyes, "especially when considering your 'plan' involves a little something for a member of your rival team..."
> Foul Play
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was surprisingly quite warm on this particular night, all the creatures were getting some well deserved rest after working all day. And then wake up and do it all over again. But for some, they were resting for a special day, for tomorrow was the start of the new baseball season.

But not every creature was resting.

"PLAY BALL!"

In the stadium for tomorrow's game, Canterlot's own baseball team could be seen preparing for the big game tomorrow, with some unusual sorts of baseball equipment.

But why? Why are they playing a practice round in middle of the night, when they should be resting and be wide awake when the day comes? Well, the answer to that lies in the last game of the previous season...



It was a warm September afternoon that fateful day, the final game of the season was well underway. With fans cheering for their favorite teams, shouting things at the players, and right now, the selected band performing the halftime show.

But most of the fans weren't interested in the show, but to see if the team from Canterlot or the visiting team from Cloudsdale would win this year's season. And right now Sammy, Cloudsdale's star player, was at the bat.

Canterlot's pitcher wound himself up, and threw the ball with as much strength he could muster. Sammy prepared to make his swing, but suddenly jerked his body so the ball wound up hitting him on the elbow, "the your base." The umpire said.

Needless to say, the team from Canterlot was not happy with this...

"He did that on purpose!"

"If he didn't move, it wouldn't have hit him!"

"He didn't even try to get out of the way!"

But their protests fell on deaf ears, and so Sammy was free to move to first base. Now Casey, Canterlot's batter, was at the bat. The pitcher was preparing to throw the ball. When he did, Sammy, despite not receiving a signal, made a run for second base. He made a slide, with the spikes on his shoes held high, and those spikes cut into Charlie, Canterlot's star player.

Charlie's team crowded around him in concern, one of them asked, "You okay man?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. It was just a scratch that's all."

One of members turned towards Sammy with a look of anger on his face, "you did that on purpose you jerk!"

Sammy didn't even try to hide the smug look on his face, "oh please, if he dropped the ball, I'd be safe."

"You were beat by a mile and you knew it!" Casey shouted at him.

Sammy shrugged nonchalantly, and the game soon resumed with Sammy at the mound, his team's coach followed him asking, "what happened back there? I didn't give you a steal sign."

"Don't worry about it." Sammy said, "I have a feeling the game's as good as ours."

It was now the last of the 9th, this would decide what team would walk home with the glory of winning this year's season. Two of Canterlot's players were out, while one was on second.

Now, it Charlie's turn to bat. But something seemed off about him, his eyes seemed a little glassy.

"Hey Charlie you sure you're alright?"

"Huh- oh yeah, I'm fine Casey, thanks."

Charlie made his way out to the field, and grabbed his bat, oddly feeling dizzy as he did so.

Sammy wound up, and threw the ball.

"STRIKE ONE!"

The ball flew past the pony and into the catcher's mitt. Only Casey knew something was off... it was like Charlie didn't see the ball fly past him.

Sammy prepared himself again and threw the ball, this time Charlie swung wildly, but he still missed.

"STRIKE TWO!!"

Now it Charlie's last chance to turn things around, if he made this shot, his team would win. Sammy threw the ball...

"STRIKE THREE!!! YOU'RE OUT."

As soon as those last two words were said, Charlie suddenly slumped to the ground in a heap.

And like that, it was over, Cloudsdale had won it all. while Canterlot's team crowded around Charlie, their fans left disappointed that they lost.

Christopher, the team's doctor who had earlier tended to his injury, checked for a pulse, a heartbeat, any sign Charlie was alright, only to look up at the team with a look of regret.

"He's dead."



In the team's locker room, Charlie's body laid on a table, with Christopher fiddling around with his needles, bottles, and rubber tubes. All the while, the team was mourning the loss  of their best player.

"Someone has to tell his wife and kids."

"He was one of the greatest players I've ever seen."

"He must've had a heart attack."

"It wasn't his heart."

The team turned to look at the doc with questioning looks on their faces, "I checked his blood, someone had poisoned Charlie, there’s still traces of a fast acting poison in his bloodstream which, when it enters the body, kills in under fifteen minutes."

"B-but that's impossible." Casey said in disbelief, "he was out on the field for fifteen before he died, how could it..."

For a moment, all was silent in the locker room, the team all looked at each other with knowing looks, they were all thinking the same thing.

"Sammy"



The visiting team's locker room was empty, the team had already left, and now Jackie, the team trainer was emptying the lockers when was approached by Christopher and Casey.

"Which locker did Sammy use Jackie?"

"That one." Jackie said, pointing to a locker in the left side corner, "his stuffs still in it."

While Casey kept Jackie busy, Christopher managed to break open Sammy's locker and proceeded to inspect the spikes on his shoes.



"Sammy's our guy alright." Christopher confirmed, "Theirs still traces of poison on his spikes."

The team was understandably not happy to hear this, "We have to call the cops." One of them suggested.

"We can't, they'll probably think we're upset about the game." Casey said.

The team once again sat in silence, thinking about what to do about Sammy, and then it hit them.



The day before opening day, Sammy was lounging in his penthouse apartment rifling through his mail, feeling confident that he managed to get away with his plan.

Oh yes, he planned it all, while his team was at bat he put the poison on his spikes, allowed himself to be hit by the pitch, and when he made the slide it was over. He did this not for the team, but for the sake of his ego. He'd win the game and the pennant, he'd win the big leagues, and he'd be declared a hometown hero, his name would go down in the history of the sport.

And now here was, going through his mail when a certain letter caught his eye...




Dear Sammy

We are a group of your most avid followers. It's our plan to place in Canterlot's ball park, a plaque, with your name on it, to honor you and your achievements in baseball. Please meet us tonight at 11:00PM to help decide upon wording and placing of said plaque.





Sammy went because... why not? He literally killed for the glory he believed he deserved. And so at 11:00PM he was at the field waiting...

"Hello Sammy."

A voice behind him made him turn around, he saw it was only Casey. And then out of the shadows came Christopher and the rest of the team, facing him with menacing looks on their faces. Sammy backed away nervously, not knowing about the player sneaking up behind him with a bat.



So now you know. Now you know why they're playing a game in the still of the night. Using the long strings of intestines as base lines. Two lungs and the liver at the three bases, the heart as home plate. Christopher whisking said base with a mangy scalp. The batter swinging the four legs, throwing all but one away. The pitcher getting ready to throw the head. The catcher with the torso strapped on him. The infielders with their hand mitts. The stomach-rosin bag. And several other pieces of equipment that once belonged to a conniving baseball player.



In the morning, the fans once again packed the stadium, not thinking something was off about the red-stained grass. The hastily substituted pitcher stepped up to the mound, and saw a plaque that was never wanted, but a plaque that was deserved...




Sammy Rose

Pitcher
Murderer

R.I.P



> Part 26
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The sickening look on the players face was more than enough to let Vlad know, "I guess I went too far with that one, but seriously, that's what might happen if you follow through with this plan of yours."

He then proceeded to turn towards the delivery pony, "That goes to you too mister."

Noticing the attention shift towards him, the pony asked, "What are you talking about? I don't have any plans."

"Oh but you do... a plan to bust out of prison in the event of your recapture."
> High Tide
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shadow prison, home to some of the deranged and heartless monsters of society, if any prisoner were asked the last prison they'd want to be, the answer would probably be this.

The only tolerable thing about this place though, would probably be the visiting hours, and right now the three visitors are  one unicorn named Joey and two earth ponies named Oliver and Clark. When the visiting hours soon ended, Mason, also a unicorn, and the skipper in charge of the boat, began preparing for the trip back to the mainland. The three visitors soon boarded, and the little boat soon began leaving the dreaded island.

For a while, all was silent. Despite the noise of the ship's motor, nopony spoke a word, until Clark broke the silence.

"Hey buddy, it's going to be a while until we reach the shore, you think you could play some music to help pass the time?"

"Certainly sir." Mason said, turning the dials on the radio, until a song finally started playing, the ironically calm music playing over the brooding boat ride.

For a while, things were alright. The three passengers were busy minding their own business with the music playing in the background, when halfway through the song...

"we interrupt this song to bring you this warning- a prisoner has recently escaped from the supposedly escape proof Shadow Prison. The prison is 30 miles off shore, any attempt to swim that distance is certain death. The only other escape route is the mail boat currently on it's way back to the mainland at this moment. The convict is a ruthless Murderer who won't hesitate for a moment to kill. And now here's Ollie Williams for the punishment report, Ollie?"

"HE'S GONNA GET IT!"

"Thank you Ollie."

Mason turned off the radio, but the damage had already been done...

"Did you hear that!" Oliver said on horror, "One of us is a murderer, it's got to be one of you."

"What do you mean we're killers?" Clark said in disbelief, "How do we know You're not the murderer, I was visiting my brother."

"And I'm a lawyer." Joey said, "Who are you supposed to be?"

"I'm just a bookkeeper that's all, I was sent to transcribe the prison's records."

Before they could argue any further, the motor starting making noises, prompting Mason to inspect...

"Looks like somepony slipped gas into the tank." He said, which lead to Oliver's eyes widening in horror.

"Then one of you IS the murderer." He said, "one of us has to call the police."

"I tried, but the radios dead."

The three ponies turned towards Mason, "What do you mean it's dead?" Clark asked, it was fine a moment ago."

"I mean just that- a tube is missing, somepony had removed it while we were distracted."

Hearing this did not raise their spirits, if anything it made them more suspicious of the other. "Right now, the only thing we can do is drift until we're spotted or we reach the mainland."

Suddenly the boat jerked a little, almost throwing the group off balance. "We've must've run aground." Mason said, looking over the side, "If it weren't for the high tide, we'd walk the rest of the way, I don't suppose either of you can swim or know a teleportation spell do you?"

All three shook their heads no, leaving them with one option; wait until the low tide comes in and attempt to walk to shore.

"Hey, what's this?"

The group turned to look at Clark and saw that he found a shotgun, and by the looks of it, it hasn't been loaded yet.

"I was afraid you'd find that." Mason said, sensing the growing tension. If either of them was a killer, then they would surely use the shotgun to bump each other off.

Oliver seemed to sense this too, taking out the case of shotgun shells, "Okay, how about this. We'll let Mason hold the gun and I'll hold the shells. We'll stand watch for two hours, and then you two stand watch for two hours watching each other."

No pony said anything, they just silently nodded and Clark handed Mason the shotgun. If things weren't so tense before, it sure is now.



Night soon fell, and the tension was still growing strong. For the last few hours the group had been keeping a close eye on each other, still unsure whether or not one of them is a murderer. Mason eventually broke the silence when he noticed the tide.

"The tide's dropping, it should be shallow enough to wade."

He and Clark never even noticed Joey silently make his off the boat, until Oliver shouted, "Hey! He's getting away."

The two looked where he was pointing, and saw he was indeed trying to make a break for it. Oliver had suddenly wrenched the shotgun from Mason's grasp, loaded bullets into the gun and fired, the others could do nothing but watch as Joey suddenly fell, his body now being dragged by the water.

Mason and Clark stared at him with shock. "What're you looking at me for!" Oliver said in defense, "Can't you see he's the murderer! He was was trying to get away from us, that's gotta mean he's a killer!"

"I don't know, you sure seemed eager to soot that guy." Clark said, "If anything, you look more like a murderer than him."

He tried to wrestle the shotgun from him, resulting in a brawl between the two. They punched, kicked, and shoved each other, until Clark bumped his head on the ship's controls, knocking him out.

The two were so busy fighting each other that they never noticed some pony reloading the shotgun. It wasn't until he heard the cooking of the gun that Oliver turned around and saw...

"YOU!!!"

He never got to say another word, because Mason fired, and Oliver slumped to the floor.

That's right, Mason was the murderer. He planned it all out while in prison. He would bump off the original captain of the boat, take the boat, and escape to the mainland. The other three were just unfortunate enough to be caught in his path.

And now, here he was, about to make his getaway. Since the boat was still stuck, he would do what one of couldn't, and wade the rest of the way to shore.

He was only a mile away from the shore, when he noticed the tide, it was rising! Panicking, he tried to get back to the boat, but that too was a mile off from where he was. Desperate, he tried to keep his head above water since he couldn't swim, but unfortunately, he was in a bad spot, so he couldn't keep his head up for long. And eventually, the water made its way above his head, filling his lungs with water.

The sun stood high above the water, casting a picture perfect view, over an otherwise deceptive boat ride.
> Part 27
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After that story, vlad made his way to the last of the group, a griffon and a pony, they both appeared to be wearing archeological uniforms and discussing something. "What're talking about?" He inquired.

"Oh we're just discussing what we might find on our expedition." The griffon said, but vlad knew what they intended to do with what they might find.

"You know... something tells me you'll find something more than treasure..."
> This Wraps It Up
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

After all the painstaking research they've done the two ponies and griffin found themselves at a cliff in the sands of Saddle Arabia. Two of them were digging at the base of the cliff while Harrison, the leader, observed as they did all the work. "It's just gotta be here, I know it is.", he muttered.

"Well, don't be disappointed if it isn't Harrison." Said Donovan, the griffin, "Why don't you lay down for a while, remember your heart."

"Heart, shmart." Harrison said, "I feel as strong as an Ox, so I had one little heart attack last month-"

The second pony, Nedry, stopped digging and looked at his associate, "The doctor said 'one more heart attack will probably kill you', just be glad you're even a part of this expedition."

As much as Harrison wanted to argue, he knew he had a point, if he had a heart attack, then he wouldn't be able to witness the greatest moment of his life. So he silently watched as the other two worked away at the hole in the ground, until...

"Hey, I think I found it." Donovan said.

The three looked at where the griffin was pointing, there was what appeared to be a iron ring imbedded in the partially uncovered stone slab. This was it, they were so sure of it. Harrison wanted to help open the door, but once again, his heart problem prevented him.

Behind the slab was a set of stairs leading into darkness. Undeterred by a fear of the dark, the group pressed on, until they came upon a door with hieroglyphics which, when translated, said: 



"Beyond this door lies exalted prince Hisan, son of the most benevolent rulers in all of Saddle Arabia. Let this be a warning for those who trespass. Death will come for those who enter his tomb. Prince Hisan will rise to avenge the disturbance of its sanctity. "



The trio were silent upon reading this, silence that was broken by Donovan's laughter. "Typical for warnings to be at the entrance of the other Pharaoh's
Tombs. This is clearly an attempt to scare off thieves who might have broken into other tombs."

Harrison tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. Undeterred he told them, "we'll break it down at the count of three."

And sure enough, they managed to break it down, and what they saw was a shock to all three of them.

There were gems that would have a dragon set for life, jewelry that still looked pretty after all these years, but what really got their attention was the skeletons that littered the floor. "They must be the remains of the thieves that broke in." Donovan said.

"But that can't be, the door was sealed shut." Harrison pointed out.

"Then these must be workers." Nedry rationalized, "Servants that interned Prince Hisan, and then murdered to keep the tomb a secret."

Once again silence fell, broken once again by Donovan's laughter. And why wouldn't he, there was enough gold and jewels to feed a family for generations.

"This is the greatest archeological discovery in history, I always said it would be!" Harrison shouted in excitement.

"Easy buddy." Nedry said, "Remember your heart."

"Hey, look at this!"

Donovan was looking into another room, in it was what appeared to be a sarcophagus.

"This must be Prince Hisan's tomb." Nedry said out loud.

Out of curiosity, Donovan and Nedry removed the top of the sarcophagus and all three looked inside. The mummy inside was surprisingly perfectly reserved, almost looked like it was recently entombed. "We have to send a message to the museum." Harrison said.

This was a shock to Nedry, "But If we tell them, we'll have to give everything to them."

"Well of course, it belonged to them to begin with. I'm heading back up to report this amazing find."

"You go on ahead Harrison, we'll keep looking around and see what else we can find." Donovan said.

Harrison left the tomb and made his way outside. As soon as he did, Donovan slapped Nedry, "You idiot! You know Harrison's too righteous to keep the treasure for himself."

"Then he's got to go." Nedry said, "he stands in our way of fame and fortune."

Donovan stared at the mummy one more time, "I think I know how we can make that happen."



That night, Donovan and Nedry were going over the plan to eliminate Harrison and take everything for themselves.

"Now here's what you're gonna do." Donovan said, "You're gonna go down to the tomb, unwrap the mummy and wrap yourself in it's windings. And make sure you scream or shout, I'll bring Harrison down and down he sees you he'll have the shock of his life."

"Oh, I get it, his heart! He'll die of fright."

"But we'll just say he died of disappointment over the failure of the expedition."

The two nodded, and as silently as he could, Nedry made his way towards the tomb to prepare for the plan.



Donovan laid awake in his bed, waiting patiently for the scream that would set the plan in motion. He was just about to give up and go to bed when...

The scream was loud enough to wake Harrison from his slumber, prompting Donovan to feign being distressed. "What was that?!?" He shouted.

"I think it's Nedry, he must be in the tomb! I think he's in trouble." Donovan said, prompting the two of them to get up and rush to the temple entrance as a second scream came out...

"Don't overdo it you numbskull!" Donovan thought to himself.

The two burst into the room where they found the mummy. All they found was Nedry's lantern... And the mummy standing up and facing them! Harrison stared in horror while Donovan had to keep himself from laughing. The mummy looked less like a freshly preserved corpse, and more like some dude wrapped in toilet paper.

"T-the curse!" Donovan said, "It's true! The mummy has risen, we have to get out of here!"

But Harrison didn't seem to try and run, rather he held his hoof to his chest, feeling a familiar pain, before collapsing to the floor.

Donovan bent over to check on Harrison, to see any sign he was still alive... there was none.

Chuckling he turned to face the mummy, who had stopped moving when Harrison collapsed. "Good work Nedry, but there's one small problem... I want all that treasure for myself, so thanks for all your help."

Donovan reached into his pocket and pulled out his gun and fired it at the mummy... but he didn't fall, instead he advanced towards the griffin, who continued firing at him until he wasted every bullet he had.

"FOR FAUST'S SAKE, JUST DIE ALREADY!" Donovan shouted, backing up into the burial chamber. There he saw Nedry, lying in the sarcophagus, with a look of horror on his face.

Donovan stared at the body in horror, with a sudden realization, if Nedry was dead this whole time, then...

Turning around, he saw some of the mummy's wrappings drooping, exposing the centuries old bones underneath. The mummy was getting closer, arms reached forward towards the frightened griffin.

Once again, an agonizing scream came out of the entrance of the tomb.


> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

With the final story told, vlad looked at the large group that was clearly unnerved by this strange pony.

"Well, my job is done here." Vlad said. "You're all free to leave."

He gestured towards the front door, where Flim noticed something was different, "Hey, the storm stopped, that means we can leave!"

"Get out off my way!" Mr. Fetlock said, shoving most of the group out of the way. He was determined to get to that auction, even if that pony said he would die because of it.

However, the moment he stepped out the door, he suddenly fell into the a void that had enveloped the Cafe, much to every creatures shock.

"W-where'd he go?" Ulric said shocked by what he just witnessed.

"The place where all sinners go."

The group turned Vlad, who had a sadistic smile on him unlike everyone else.

"You see, I lied to all of you. I never told what was going to happen... I told what already happened: all of you have died without repentance, so now you're stuck here for all eternity."

"N-no we can't be dead.", Sammy "if we're dead, than why are we how are we in a Cafe?"

"THIS AIN'T NO CAFE!!!" Vlad suddenly shouted. As flames slowly began rising outside the building.

"THIS AIN'T THE CRYSTAL EMPIRE EITHER!!!!!!" Cracks suddenly started forming inside the building.

"WELCOME TO HELL!!!!!!!!! motherbuckersssssssss."

To group's shock and horror, the pony's form started from that of a pony, and into something more demonic, as the entire building suddenly collapsed, revealing the hellish landscape they were in.

At that moment demonic figures suddenly appeared and started dragging them away for Faust knows what. The group tried break free but there was nothing they could do. Like this creature said, they're stuck here for all eternity.

Speaking of Vlad, he was watching the whole thing unfold with sadistic glee, as this was one the best group of sinners he ever had.

"Now then... who's next?" He suddenly turned towards the whoever is reading these final lines.

"Perhaps... You?"