Of Elder Gods and Ponies (Old First Chapter)
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MUCKLE DAMRED PONI 'AIR EH NAMBLIES BE KEEPIN' ME WEE MEN!?!?
Of Elder Gods and Ponies (Old First Chapter)
Of Elder Gods and Ponies
It all started as a simple game. Just to liven up the monotony of Equestria. No big deal right?
Apparently certain equine princesses take exception to summoning other-dimensional beings and setting them loose on a unsuspecting world. Who knew right?
But in the last moments of freedom the Game Master decided to give these ungrateful royal pricks a parting gift. A call was sent out to the corners of the multiverse. A call that brought forth Gods and Men to the world of Equestria. Even if he couldn't participate, he could still enjoy the show.
But like all games, there is an element of chance. A roll of the proverbial dice. Little things that would slip even the most experienced Game Master.
And the Game Master failed his Spot Check.
It was over. Everyone was either dead or safe. No one left but him and Charlie. Wait, forgot that he was gnomenapped by the cultists. Damn gnome stealing cultists! Was a swell guy though, never asked to share a joint or anything. He knew how much Henderson enjoyed the stuff.
Henderson smiled, and called Hastur forward into the world, and set the timers.
As Hastur stepped forward, he got a rather... unusual greeting
"O Canada! Our home and native land! True patriot love in all thy sons command. With glowing hearts we see thee rise, The True North strong and free!~"
The King in Yellow pauses, while Henderson apparently hits the limit of the internal clock he's been ticking off in his head.
"See you in whatever version of hell there is for weak-ass gods like you fucker!"
Then an explosion that would have made Michel Bay blush rocked the skating rink.
Henderson came to a few moments later, most of his body crushed in rubble. A few feet away, he notices another figure.
"Sup?" He wheezes, while reaching into his coat with his one good arm, pulling out a joint he stashed away for future use.
"I'm dieing." The form replies, his voice weak. "I must commend you Human. I did not think you capable of such a task."
"Yeah, you seem the type to know a lot. Something I learned early in life is that no-one expects a sucker-punch from someone they underestimate." He then lights his slip with a smile.
"True." The form responds. "You know, I've been following you. You know I never took your Gnomes?"
"Fuck, really? Well now I feel like I might've over-reacted a bit." He says with a cough. He then passes the blunt to Hastur, who after only a moment's hesitation, accepts.
"You apparently gave them up for a charity auction." He informs him. "... You know, I've figured out everything but one little detail. Mind if I ask you a question?"
"Shoot."
"Is Henderson your first or last name?"
".... Man, I've got no fucking idea."
Laughing, the man and the Mad god died together moments later.
On a small hill looking over the impromptu warzone, a lone being stands.
On the outside most he would look like a slender man of Egyptian descent. In reality, he was the most dangerous and terrifying being to walk the earth.
And he was laughing.
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He woke up to nothing.
Henderson looked around the void he found himself hanging in. He was vaguely disappointed. He never expected to go to heaven (if it existed) but he had at least thought he would be chilling in a fire pit right about now. Seems like the atheists were right all along.
A sinister, charismatic voice with an Egyptian accent decided to put those doubts to rest. "No, you've simply been diverted from your final resting place due to the... unusual circumstances surrounding your death."
"Eh? The hell 'r you? Git out here so I can see ya!"
From the void a shape began to appear. It wasn't humanoid, or anything else for that matter. It seemed to be made up of writhing appendages and tentacles, with multiple gaping maws and squirming tongues. Quite honestly it looked like something he saw when he got some bad Rainbow Skittles.
But then the form solidified into a man. Looked like a gyppy. "And who the blue blazin' balls are you?"
The not-man responded with a chuckle, "I am many things. But for now, I am your savior."
Henderson snorted, "Find that a tad hard to believe. Aren't you one'a those tentaclly dark gods or some shit?"
"Well yes. But I'm still here to help you." responded the tentaclly dark god with hands raised in surrender.
"Oh? That so? I got the impression I have to sell my soul to get help from things like you."
"Generally yes, but you see I appreciate more things about the mortal races than simple destruction. Enough of that though, I'm sure your wondering why you're here. At first I was going to send you on a journey that would test whatever is left of your sanity and push it to the breaking point. But now it's come to my attention that a much more delightful and maddening game has been started." responded the Old One.
"And you think I'm going to join because you asked nicely?" Henderson said after raising a grizzled eyebrow.
The Destroyer of Sanity gave another annoying giggle before responding. "Of course not, but I think I can make it worth your while. There are three reasons why you should join. Firstly, once you've finished I will return you to your home dimension with any bounty you have collected during your stay."
"Send me home just like that huh?"
"Well you've got to play the game, and preferably, win it. Or I could just leave you here for a couple millennium. Second, your defeat of the King in Yellow resulted in more than you death. Congratulations, you now hold the power of Hastur ."
Henderson raised the other eyebrow, and then slowly broke into a grin.
"So that means I'm immortal now?"
"As fun as it'd be to torture you for all eternity, no. While your life is extended, your still mortal after a fashion. Everytime you experience a life ending event some of your life force will be taken to repair the damage. You may live for centuries, or only a few months. Depends on how many times you get your head blown off by a spell-happy unicorn."
"... Man, the fuck you talkin' about?"
"Irrelavant. As I was saying you now hold a limited amount of Hastur's power, but you'll discover those as you go along the way. The third reason is the one I think you'll be most interested in. You see, I've taken the liberty of collecting some 215 objects of porcelain and scattering them across the place you'll be going. Care to guess what they are?"
Henderson's jaw dropped at this stunning revelation. The bastard took his gnomes and littered them some place? What if they got chipped? Or destroyed?
"So help me if I find one scratch, one FUCKING scratch I will hunt you down and shove them up your tanned ass so hard you're mouth will taste like your FUCKING GRANNY'S HOUSE FOR A WEEK!"
"Calm yourself child," said the thing that should not be with a smirk "They are all safe. And will stay so until you come to claim them. I take it your agreed to this little game then."
"Fuck you King Tut. I'm going for my boys and that's it."
"Excellent! Now I've heard that most of the pawns will be altered in their appearance to "fit" better in this game. And as much as I'd like to turn you into something small and furry, your powers now prevent me from altering you drastically. Those same powers do make that question moot however."
Henderson folded his arms and gave a questioning grunt.
"Just remember that your form has the ability to inspire madness to those with weak minds. Which pretty much describes a majority of the creatures you'll be seeing."
Henderson made his first mental note. Ambush and scare the bejeesus out of the nearest liquor store owner. And pilfer a coat to hide his identity. And maybe to stop people from getting their minds fucked.
"Now one last step. I'm going to let you wish for ONE thing to bring with you, seeing as how you won't be turning into a feather duster, mangy mutt, or some other ridiculously overpowered character."
"Seriously, what the hell have you been smoking and where can I get some? Also, I call bullshit."
"Oh? In what part have I've been unfair in this? You have powers and can make people go insane!"
"That so huh? Well you tell me mister 'I'm-so-smart-because-85%-of-my-body-is-made-out-of-tentacles' how the hell am I supposed to lug around 800 pounds of gnome?"
"Not my problem."
"... Fine. I want some way to carry around 40k worth of gnomes close to my person without them ever getting damaged, stolen, or otherwise harmed."
"Hmmm... Alright take off your pants."
Henderson responded with a rather flat look.
"*sigh* FINE. Don't give me any grief if something happens to that bit of flesh you males seem to pride yourselves on."
With a flash and a tingle in the nether regions, Henderson looks around to see... nothing.
"Hey Squidward, what happened? Your magic go stale?"
"Your cargo pant's pockets are now enchanted to hold large amounts of matter."
"So what, you made me some Cargo Pants of Holding or some shit?"
"If you wish to be vulgar, yes. But it is a lot more complicated than you make it out to be-"
"Yeah yeah, whatever.
"*groan* All right, now that we have this taken care of, all we have to do is wait for a summoning."
Henderson finished off half his second bottle before asking, "The hell you talking about now?"
"Like I said before, while you might not be a god or demon, your claim on Hastur's powers prevents you from leaving this place unless you've been summoned. Or rather Hastur's powers have been summoned. And I've already taken care of that. I've been messing with one of the local's mind and he should start the summoning ritual soon."
Henderson popped the cap off his fourth bottle and said, "Waever man... Hey... Hey dude... Yew neva actualy sed wer 'm goin."
"Oh, don't worry, you'll learn all about it when you get there. Ah! There we go, right on time. So long Mr. Henderson, no matter what happens know that I'll enjoy the show."
"Wai man... I jush realiz shomethin... Haven't I hear yew shomewer 'for?"
"I imagine you have. I'm the god of insanity. I invented telemarketing."
"... Tha kinda maksh shenshe."
A bright light filled Henderson's vision, a feeling of being sucked through a straw overcoming him. Then as suddenly as it had come, the feeling left, and all he could see was two... ponies... with ass tattoos... fuck it, nevermind. All that mattered were the gnomes.
"MUCKLE DAMRED PONI 'AIR EH NAMBLIES BE KEEPIN' ME WEE MEN!?!?"
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"Come ON Dagger! It'll be fun! It's not everyday you summon creatures from the great beyond to do your bidding."
"What did I ever do to deserve this?"Bloody Dagger thought.
Sure, he was born in a semi-inbred village in the ass end of nowhere, but he should be able to find SOMETHING interesting to do. Even if it was just poking a dead cat with a stick. But NOOOOOOoooooooo, all he had around here was his nerdy, occult obsessed friend/cousin Unsuspecting Sacrifice. Nope, his uncles, aunts and various cousins seem to have lost interest in incest during the last 18 years.
"Just a itty-bit of blood and some help with the chant. I'm not asking you to give up your soul. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?" Sacrifice said with the best puppy dog eyes he could muster.
"Can't... take... it... anymore... thought Dagger. He barely noticed his left eye twitching. "FINE! Sweet Celestia I'll do it, just STOP BUGGING ME!"
"Great!" squeaked the annoying colt with glee "Tonight at Slasher's Abandoned Shack at midnight. Be sure you're not late or I might send whatever I summon after you to harvest your soul!" With a final high-pitched squeal of anticipation Sacrifice trotted off to finish his ceremonial dagger and figure out a way to nab one of Cat Lady's cats to use it in the ritual.
"Ugh, he never stops... why do I feel that I just made a pact with Discord?" With a depressed sigh, Dagger went back to watching the third coat of paint dry on his family's outhouse.
8 hours later
Sighing once again in the face of the utter lack of mercy the universe had for him, Dagger made his way to Slasher's Abandoned Shack. Mind wandering, he considered that he in fact didn't know of anyone named Slasher, nor why the shack had been abandoned. Maybe if he could get Unsuspecting Sacrifice to do his voodoo somewhere else he could finally get a place of his own. It'd be slightly less depressing than living in his parent's basement.
Diverting his thoughts to a more present and annoying task, Dagger prepared to knock.
"Hello?" Dagger half groaned out. "Sacrifice, you in here?"
Seeing the interior to only have one lantern in the far corner, casting the rest of the room in inky blackness, Dagger proceeded to walk further into the shack. With any luck the brat will have fallen asleep and he wouldn't have to do the stupid rit-
...
...
...
...
"Uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuugh..."
"Hello?"
"Ok, whoever you are, I don't know what you want but I don't have any bits!"
"Hello...?"
*thwip*
"Sacrifice! What's going on? Why am I tied up?"
"Wait, wait, WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?!"
"STOP! DAMMIT!"
*crash*
"GOT TO LEARN TO TIE BETTER KNOTS YOU BASTARD!"
*crack*
"YOU WANT SOME MORE? COME AT ME BRO!"
*thunk*
"MISSED FUCKER! NOW LETS SEE HOW YOU LIKE IT!?!"
*shunk*
"YEAH! RIGHT IN THE FUCKING EYE! Let's "see" if you'll get up from that o- Ok, what? What the hell? What's with the glowing lines? Sacrif- Oh wait your dead, right. Bastard."
*(use your imagination and pretend there is a sound effect for the fabric of reality being torn open)*
"... What? What the- WHAT THE FUCK? ARGH!
"SWEET CELESTIA WHAT ARE YOU? LUNA'S TITS THE VOICES!
"AAAAAAAAAH! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU!?!"
...
"MUCKLE DAMRED PONI 'AIR EH NAMBLIES BE KEEPIN' ME WEE MEN!?!?"
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"Darm ponies stealin me gnomes." Henderson muttered as he looked around of what remained of the shack he found himself in. At least, he was PRETTY sure it was ponies. He didn't quite remember why the cabin was like this, or why he woke up next to two mangled pony/unicorn corpses. All he knew was that he lost half of his life time supply of Jack Daniels.
Well he also only had 14 rounds in his shotgun, but he would just switch the mag and he'd be ready to go. Yessir, right after he got one of those mags he stashed somewhere on his person.
"..."
"..."
"... Fuck"
After thoroughly searching his body from head to toe, Henderson came to two conclusions. First, he only had 14 rounds for his shotgun. Second, if he met anymore of those god-ugly poodles Hasturd sent after him, he was royally screwed. Stepping over the blood soaked door on his way out, he looked up at the sky and saw it was getting late. Must had been some good whiskey...
Well that didn't matter. Well it did, but it didn't until he had to kill something. So no point about worrying about it now. What was worrying was that he didn't have as much liquor as he was supposed to. "Damn glorified squid probably nicked it." he muttered to himself.
Without further to do, Henderson sniffed the air, checked which side the moss faced on a nearby tree, nibbled on some dirt, and after calculating the sun's position versus the direction the wind was blowing, he decided he would head for the town he could see the path lead to.
Surprisingly, finding the liquor store wasn't that hard. You just had to follow the smell. Upon reaching the back of the store, somehow miraculously avoiding detection by whatever lived in this town, Henderson snuck to the door, where he used his trusty lockpicks that he kept on his person to open the door. Well, if one counted the stock of an AA12 a lockpick. Which Henderson did.
CRUNCH
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Scared Shitless*, the proprietor of the Liquor Store**, was getting ready for bed when a crash from the back door. Despite his name, Scared Shitless was actually quite the brave stallion. To disprove the Cutie Mark Curse*** he had done tons of incredibly brave**** things like wrestle a timberwolf, have staring contests with cockatrices, and some of his customers spoke of him out shouting Princess Moonpie*****. Some say that the only way he was able to do any of this was because he liked to pump himself up with liquid courage. But anyone who knew him well could attest to his aversion to his product. In fact the rumor was he was named Scared Shitless because that is what he did to OTHER ponies.
So after receiving such an exposition, it is no wonder that Scared Shitless was more annoyed than frightened by the sounds of forced entry. Slipping on his shoes******, he made his way to the back of the store. It was rather dark, barely any light made it in through the dirty windows. Making a mental note to find his cousin Bloody Dagger and get him to clean up the store, Shitless started to head the sounds of bottles being uncorked and a gravely yet sexy voice muttering to itself about a "load of horse piss" the merchandise was.
By now Shitless was actually getting a bit angry. Some slob off the street broke into his store, despoiled his merchandise, and had the AUDACITY to claim it was HORSE PISS!?!?******* Forget teaching this interloper manners, they'd never find the fucking corpse. Making a final turn in a long line of rickety stairs, hallways, and explanations, Shitless FINALLY made it to the counter and proceeded to find a lightswitch. "Alright you son of a mule..."
Whatever insults that Scared Shitless was about to fling quickly died when he saw the thing in his store.
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Henderson continued sucking down the local brew, trying desperately to get some kind of buzz. Sadly, all he got was a little tickle in the back of his throat. "Damn ponies. First they take my gnomes, now they can't make decent hooch. Load o' hose piss." After going through 5 and a half more bottles, Henderson tried to decide if some retard just had the balls to call him an ass, and if he should bother breaking the guy' legs or not.
Deciding it was better to nip the problem in the bud, Henderson grabbed a hold of his boomstick and slowly turned to face the unfortunate soul that dared to interrupt his alcohol binge.
Scared Shitless was frozen in terror.
The thing in his store was staring at him with it's big, shiny eyes. It looked like it was cloaked in fire and shadows. It's eyes were souless black pits that stared into his soul. In it's hand a weapon of metal was held, terrible in it's simple yet deadly appearence. This wasn't the formless monster that his parents would scare him with. It was the opposite. There was to MUCH detail. He felt that if he stared at it long enough, he could count the individual hairs that surrounded it's head like a halo of steel. But it hurt to look. It hurt to listen. It hurt to think.
"... AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!"
