Stacking The Deck

Log 2

Digging up the past can be quite the conundrum, even for me. Though I am burdened with immortality and sacred magic, there were times before even I came into being that are now lost to the world. Almost all their traces are gone. Regardless, what little our predecessors left behind I am still able to recover. Avar-Fortis, the first dragon, ever, is said to have doomed his entire race through the use of dark magic and mind manipulation.

Eet gose wif owt sayn dat I admeyer heem grately for hees trioomphs. He waz alsu aeble tu send dat deemun uf temptashun tu da depfs uf TARTARUS. WERE SHEE MAE BERN FOR EETURNITEE! DA DESDRACEFOL VIXEN UF SIKENING BEETRAEL AND DESGUSTIN--

Sorry. It is also said that the death of Peccatia, the "mythical" darkness bringer, happened around the same time as the dragons descend into mortality and greed. Peccatia was indeed real, and did introduce the dark arts to the world, and that is something which can never be forgiven. I'm actually surprised to know something about history which the creature in question doesn't even know about itself. For Avar-Fortis's plans to succeed he would need a great number of people, people to manipulate, some of these people so young that they might not even remember their assistance.

"After all I've done, please just let me do this," the pleading voice of Avar-Fortis was accompanied by a warm expression of caring. Ashkore knew little of his great great grandfather, and littler still of the power he held, but even what he was proposing seemed impossible. "I know I haven't always been there to guide you, you must believe me, but I want to make it up to you. Longing for your hospitality and forgiveness is what I truly want, and great lengths I am willing to go to procure those."

"It's not possible. It can't be done, as much as I want to this to be true you and I both know this cannot happen," Ashkore paid little to no heed to the older wyrm's words.

"Please, the words I speak are of truth itself. I promise you will be reunited with your wife and that your son shall be cured of his malady. Just allow me to help, this is all I ask. Allow me to attempt to bring your family, our family, back together," the sincerity in the scaled originator's vocalization seemed completely and utterly genuine.

"Alright," the younger, ignorant dragon's words brought a smile to his predecessor's face. Beneath the spurious show of emotion lay the real motivation for the king's actions. Hidden well beyond sight was the originator's avarice, malice, and hate, soon to be unleashed his ancestors, his entire race. "But this will not grant you my full forgiveness or trust, for that is something that must be earned with time."

"I know," Avar's smile only grew with his descendant's nescient answer. At this he proceeded to bring forth a jar of sliver and titanium from the shadowy smoke that seeped from his leathery wings. "To your son, your wife, our family, our unity, the power of magic, and the strength of dragons everywhere," the fire breathing monster practically radiated with anticipation as he held the pot of temptation out towards his own grandson, his own flesh and blood.

"Agreed," the amber victim sealed his fate, removing the lid from the container and fulfilling the dark lord's wish. Millions of black darts took flight and the deceitful deity of darkness's throat rumbled with a laugh of incredible volume and evil. The nearly empty pot of greed rushed through the air before shattering against the ground, unleashing a plume of black fire that danced around the king. A singular dart separated from the cloud of pitch and dove into Ashkore's breast, dissolving inside his heart as it did to every other dragon in the world.

"You see my dear heir" Avar spoke the last word mockingly. Each time his mouth opened to produced words the fires of the curse found entrance, giving him superiority and strength. "For one to ruin an entire race with unquenchable greed, temptation, rage, malice, perversion, feriocity, and evil, they must sacrifice a part of themselves, something I could never give: the soul of its leader, born with blood of the most pure. And now," Ashkore was lifted up by his cruel sorcerer of kin. "Your soul is mine, along with your power. Feel the sting of defeat and death at your own hand," the impeccable timing held true as the curse poisoned Ashkore's heart as it did for all the other dragons of the universe.

While the tricked victim of Avar-Fortis was filled with a literal poison of fatigue and death, all the other wyrms of the world took their own forced poison. The curse then bore a hole into every heart and soul of dragons everywhere. A hole so unfathomably deep, and impossible to fill it would not only have to be carried by every dragon currently alive, but by ever one of the creatures to ever come. And thus the race of dragons fell from grace, thus the sparkling example of kindness and generosity for the entire world fell. Thus fell the first of the Fallen Stars.

The temple of alabaster and magic drifted freely through the cosmos, its existence fading in and out. At the innermost room of celestial judgement The Council sat, upon their thrones of justice and light. Beams of radiance and joy emanated from the faces of the sacred ponies as their eyes remained locked on the dragon of crimson and saffron. She too wore an expression of relief and thank standing at the center of the courtroom. Only brighter their happiness grew when the roof swirled and mixed into a portal leading to their place of heavenly afterlife: Benedixitque.

"Itremor, betrothed of Ashkore and daughter of Saphurno, go now from our sight, pass unto the hooves of the mother of majesty: Omnia. See not the grim of death, but find the hope and magic of a life reborn, reborn in the eyes of our all mother," Lassus deemed her entrance to the utopia of their religious reality. Her ascension began, but only a few inches away from the supposed eternal salvation she stopped. The council members all watched with confusion and panic as instead of passing onto the next stage of life, black darts began to fly around her. Lassus's expression of fulfillment faded, morphing to horrible dread. Time stopped as a magical projectile of a shooting, or rather falling, star split the air and pierced through the now dead dragon's carcass.

Her lifeless body fell limp upon the floor and more of the falling stars appeared. Darkness poisoned the air, and cursed magic brought destruction upon the temple. For every surface that made contact with the blazing spheres of flame became engulfed with black magic, eradicating it. Within moments, the entirety of The Council's home was annihilated. The entities of power and royalty then fled to the real world, setting hoof upon the sky far above the ground.

Floating above the world, they became surrounded by shimmering specks of blinding light. Once each of the hallowed ponies had arrived, the prophecy began to demonstrate the beginning of its own fulfillment. Revealed to the eyes of the fore bearers of the matriarch of the universe were hundreds of holographic stars, falling. Each now wore a face filled with abhorrence and disbelief beyond reckoning, for filling each of the star's epicenter was each one of the council member's faces. Dancing around the head Chancellor were multiple prophetic images, each with a separate scene taking place.

Each projection played at an alarming rate, proving it impossible for the chief judge to focus upon them. As if on cue, each and every one of the foretelling stars froze, holding the illustrations of the ponies depicted to fall with the world's balance. Lassus absorbed the faces of three corrupt beings exemplified before him by the prophecy. The first was of the seapony Peccatia, for whom he had indeed been suspicious of throughout his rule over the judgement of the dead. The second was also a person of whose treachery he was familiar with: Avar-Fortis. But the third image was the one that left the Head Chancellor shell shocked, as it was an alicorn whose face he had known since the beginning of time, an alicorn of cream coat and bronze mane. Eyes of white stared back at Lassus as he watched in undeniable certainty as his own eyes stared back at him.

Collectively the stars then moved, and as a sort of hive they forged together, exhibiting the final telling of the doomsday prophecy: the sky. The normal blue of the world was basked in red and yellow, the very air everypony breathed, the kingdom in which the pegasus flew, the place where birds and dragons alike took flight, the sky itself was alight, burning under the wrath of a single figure. A new, unknown pony at the hurricane of fire's eye wasn't able to be identified and with the conclusion of the scene of gargantuan devastation the live playing of the future ended.

None of the arbiters of the afterlife dared move, none of them dared break the silence cast of completion by the announcement of the first part of the prophecy of doom. Continued the mum of sound brought forth in the wake of the Telling of the Fallen Stars.

Cold. After the hours of consistent agony at the hand of the curse, the unicorns felt cold. Both Bronze Cross and Hallow Dove rose to their hooves checking themselves for any signs of physical damage. Nothing. Boundless pain and aching left absolutely no mark on the flesh that bore it so prolonged. The forest around both the siblings blurred and faded, replaced by the familiar glow of their hut. Before them, drowned in a drunken stupor, was their father. The first to act was Bronze Cross, who by using his newly awarded strength, brought the stallion up by his long, shaggy mane.

"Ah! What the hell?" The previously resting pony cursed at his son. "Put me down this in... stant," the older colt's voice trailed off as he stared into the now bloodshot eyes of his son. A snarl rumbled and grew in Bronze Cross's throat, accompanied by a show of his teeth and true intent. "W-What are you doing? Son?" The evil in the younger male's heart grew voraciously at the trembling in his father's voice. Explosions of agony and memories poured over the older of the two, filling him not only with all the pain ever experienced by the cursed colt, but also with the purely psychologically damaging horror  of the reality of his past punishments.

Following the harsh remembrance of the unjust and unstoppable assaults, were new sources of pain and terror beyond the imagination of most, but not Bronze Cross. His own mind raced with scenarios of despicable evil that broke over the father of this malice filled tormentor.

After literal hours of intense punishment and revenge, the stallion whose mind now knew only despair and haunting was released, at which he curled up into a ball and just lay there, wallowing in fright and suffering. Frantically his eyes darted, searching for signs of any and all of the terrible scenarios that taunted his now feeble mind. Eventually, his fears came to life as Hallow Dove appeared beside Bronze Cross.

"I've done it," he whispered to his younger sister. "He will leave us alone, he won't ever hurt us again. We're free." Bronze Cross smiled for the last time as he watched his sister.

"It's not enough," the words were barely audible.

"What? You need to speak up," Bronze Cross bent down to listen more closely to his young sister, for whom he was now responsible.

"It's not enough!" She bellowed, her voice deeper than the depths of Tartarus. Before further action could be taken, the small pony was standing over her father, glaring down at him. His screams resonated off the walls and his entire body burned, turning to ash and dust. Before either of the two fiends of darkness could react they were ripped through time and space until they stood before their previous seducer and now summoner: Peccatia.

The navy blue seapony prayed while speeding towards the source of the disturbance, only to have his hopes dashed at the sight of his sister. Now at the heart of the forest, Oblítus's face fell, the reality of it all crashing into him. His sister floated and upon her face was an expression of both achievement and satisfaction. Coiling around her left foreleg was a lengthy strand of scales: a snake. A second longer of observing corrected Oblítus, for the thing entwined with her hoof was not a living creature, but instead a slithering strand of black magic.

"Great Omnia, what have you done. Don't you realize what you've done?" Oblítus almost refused to believe what he saw. A cold, hearty laugh confirmed it all.

"I've set the world free. Ponies are free to use magic as they please, I have carried out the words of Omnia herself. In years following I will be hailed for my gift to the world. After all you've tried, I've done it, I've outdone you, you are nothing compared to me," Peccatia boasted fervidly.

"This isn't right! Don't you see it? You've brought us all to the verge, The Council has informed me that the prophecy has begun. You haven't set us free, you've condemned us all to eternal damnation!" Directly following the statement of revaluation, the air filled with tension and suspense. "And for that you must pay, you must be judged. Come with me, The Council must decide your fate," his right hoof extended sorrowfully towards his mistaken sibling.

"No, you're wrong. You're all wrong. The Council has held us back, forcing us into compliance to their great vision. I refuse to stoop to them," the serpentine entity of satanic power expanded from her grasp, drooping to the ground before collapsing into a puddle of sludge. "They seek only to control, to dictate our every move. Tell me, dear brother, are you free? Free to live your life, make your own decisions, and follow the path you choose?"

"That is irrelevant to the subject at hand, come now. You must face punishment for your actio--"

"Have you not heard me? Justice is obsolete as long as those oligarchs bind us to their code of judgement. You believe they signify order and peace, while they seek power and control over everyone of us. Avar-Fortis has told me us your treachery, of how you would come, come to take me away to meet my unholy execution,"  Oblítus's mind began to take in the recognition of manipulation the clever dragon king had used in planning his moves. "I am here to inform you, I will not surrender to death willingly."

The older of the two seaponies's faces solidified and darkened realizing the futility of a diplomatic solution.

"Then I shall carry out your sentence myself, regardless the cost."

"So be it," the neglected sibling of jealousy brought both her forelegs above her head, tainting the pure air of the forest yet again with the black words of the curse. Bubbles arose from the portal between the two as both Bronze Cross and Hallow Dove emerged from the murky black. Both siblings looked around with confusion at their new surroundings, before Peccatia spoke, directing their every being.

"Kill him." Unable to do anything, the little ponies each lost control of their bodies. The curse bent the two unicorns to the mermare's malicious command. Curls of magic and power pouring from both the damned unicorns' horns molded and fused together to become a single collective of accursed terror.

It then gave out, coating the victims of the enslavement curse. The words of Peccatia echoed in the head of the adolescents while their figures were destroyed, replaced with shells of what they once were.

Bronze Cross, the hollow son of a drunkard and sinner, the voice was soft, but intertwined with a cutting edge tone hidden beneath its false veil. The tar of the curse burst outwards with an explosion of grand magnitude, bringing with it part of his flesh and soul until nothing but his floating skeletal figure was left.

Hallow Dove, the soulless monster born of a usurper and abuser, the voice resonating in the younger one's mind was of a harsh and hateful nature. But rather than cause horrific destruction and disembodiment, the thick liquid of the imprecation seeped into her skin, morphing it in the soulless body of a doll.

Kill him!

Salvos of shadow shot from the horns of both the archfiends of the curse, showering the shield instantly created by Oblítus, destroying it just as quickly as it was generated. Stumbling backwards, the timeless seapony cast a burst of bright colors into the sky, calling for aid, signaling that his retrieval had failed, summoning The Council. Blinding, empyreal rays of sacredness shone down, scorching the ground with the arrival of the Head Chancellor. Far above the stallion of destiny was a cloud, atop which the remaining twenty nine members of the appointed judgement bringers stood, proudly and sorrowfully. Each concentrating on their governor, filling him the power and magic of the ages, the power and magic of the entire council.

With a flare of his sacrosanct wings he dispelled the demons destined to serve their curse for eternity, returning them to the great cosmos. A heavy sigh was elicited by The Council's chief.

"In retaliation of your actions and atrocities, I hereby forego all forms of a lawful court and take it upon myself to see to it that you are damned into the depths of Tartarus,"  the disappointment in the elder's voice was unmistakable as stared at the seapony, who single hoofedly brought doom upon the entirety of the world.

"Curse you!" She shrieked in response. "Curse you! With your false kingship over us and unjust punishments when we do not comply with your demands! Not everypony shared your views of how everything should be controlled, you convict me for acting upon the will of your idol and God! She warned you of the coming darkness, knowing you were helpless to stop it. How can you have faith in a deity who, herself, told you that she create someone who would bring death and failure to an entire world? My work is done, it would be pointless to try to stop you, but know, as the prophecy predicts, you yourself will aid in the destruction and annihilation of the world." Without further adieu, the ground opened and swallowed the smiling seapony, dragging her down, to the nethers of the underworld by way of celestial constraints.

"Lassus," the brother of the recently deceased spoke. "She was told to, she was corrupted. Lassus, it was Avar-Fortis, he did this, and I believe he plans much worse."

"I know, Oblítus, trust me, I know."

"There, there young one," Avar-Fortis cooed to the son now orphaned. "I know it hurts, but one day you will be able to save them. That day you will have to make a choice, to follow the path of righteousness or drown yourself in the poison that is order." The body of the cured dragon had finally ceased its convulsions as Avar-Fortis's magic left him. His heart's hole was refined and complete, complimenting his mutated body. "One day you may take your vengeance, destroying order and seeing the power of The Council fall."

The tears stopped as the dragon, less than a decade old, stood, for the first time. The previously handicaped creature watched in awe as he stumbled forward, holding himself aloft without support. The black castle had proved both a place for entertainment and hearth in the recent hours. The colossal drake uplifted the smaller child and flew him to the dark, shadowy dome of his library in which he placed him.

"Come youngling," he beckoned the misfit over to a tall ebony shelf, from which he procured a book, both heavy and black. Opening its cover he removed the marker of its pages: a vial. The swirling silver liquid within it brought a smile to the now long snout of the deformed dragon, who giggled at the sight of it.

"What is it?" The curios little creature asked reaching out for the precious container. The older of the two dragons smiled as he brought his fanged mouth to the ear of the draconequus before withdrawing upon uttering the name of it into his ear.

"Now tell me, Discord, son of Ashkore, do you accept this duty to cast down The Council from their thrones by means of chaos and deception? And in my stead, avenge your family and the free will of the world?" He paused before realizing his own mistake. "Say 'I do,'" the king commanded.

"I do," Discord reached out with both claw and paw to receive the duty of delivering the potion.

"Good, hitherto I have aspired to complete the great works of our mother Omnia, now I hand down this potion and its magic to you, my dear draconequus, so you may one day complete your task and assist me in my endeavors to bring about the Telling of the Fallen Stars. May the will of the dragons be with you my kin, and with that in mind you have my blessing to tear down order, replacing it with the freedom and liberty of chaos."