The Confederacy of Purple

"Welcome to McDonalds, how may I help you?"

*click*

"And that's not all! Order in the next-"

*click*

"Four score and seven years ag-"

*click*

"So that'll be $8.9-"

*click*

"That's a Five hundred dollar value, for just twelve payments of $18.5-"

*click*

"to the proposition that all me-"

*click*

"Bob!" shouted Jon, "Why do we only have three channels? Why is the McDonalds a channel? Why are they making a new building across the street? Why am I asking so many questio-Hey! Bob! Are you there?" Jon swore. "You better not have eaten a hamburger and fallen through a portal to another dimension! Do you remember what happened last time?"Jon swore again. "****** on a ***** with ****** ****** eating ******* ********** ****** ***** potato ********* and a side of ********** ****."

There was a blinding flash of light, and Jon passed out.

Jon woke, and glanced around him. He was in a dark room, boxes spread round him. He rubbed his eyes.

"FUCK!" screamed he, as the hitting of eyeballs with hooves can be painful. "WHY THE FUCK DO I HAVE HOOVES?" Jon stood up, was greeted by another flash.

"Now, now. We don't like that kind of language here." called voice.

"Who are you? What are you? Why did you take me here?" Jon saw a figure appear. It was a horse. but with wings and a horn.

"All will be revealed in time. But now, you have a job to do. Perhaps you should inspect your surroundings." With that, the strange figure disappeared in another flash of light.

Jon groaned. "WHALP. Better look around." He walked over to the boxes, and peered inside. "Meh. Broken pen, broken pen, a waffle, half jug of wine, a blue paper hat, a purple disc, a pumpkin, Oh a sword! This could be useful!" Jon withdrew the blade, putting it away in his nothing. Jon looked around again. This time, he spotted a door. "Well, it seems this is the only way to go! What could possibly go wrong?" Jon entered through the door. Across the hallway, there were two guards, each standing in front of a door. The first, dressed in red armour, spoke up.

"Welcome, adventurer. Many things lie before you. Great monsters, treasures, and wealth. But first, you must pass us. One door leads to all this, the other to certain death. You may ask us two questions. However, be forewarned. One of us always lies, and one always tells the truth."

Jon spoke to both of them at once. "What's one plus one?"

"Two" replied the red armoured guard.

"One" replied the guard clad in green.

Jon spoke again. "Which door leads to death?"

"Both" said the red.

"Up to one or more" said the green.

Jon moved forth, unsheathing his sword and delivering a savage cut to the green knights neck. He raised his own blade, blocking the cut and snapping Jon's own sword in half.

"An unwise move," spoke the green guard, "Perhaps we should punish you." In yet another flash of light, Jon passed out.

Three men watched from afar.

"He should pay heed next time."

"Perhaps the boxes hold more than he thinks."

"Not all that is gold, glitters."

"Wise words from a wise man."

"Not all can be as strong as you, Zamorak."

"So you say. Discord failed me."

"Order reigns higher."

"Remember balance. You recall what happened the last time."

Jon woke up. He was in the room. Again. His head was pounding, and there was a large cut on his right foreleg. Jon stood up and looked around him. Everyone appeared the same as before, so he walked over to the boxes to peer inside again.

"Rubbish...plastic bags, a stapler, hmm a metamorphosis potion. What's this?" Jon pulled a paper slip out from the box. "Captain Chekhov? What kind of Captain has business cards? Can pick locks, eat foil, make cryptic references, and has safe rooms. That's nice." Jon rooted around the box for a few more minutes, picking items he deemed useful (a bronze dagger, bag of "booms", a mac computer, a gun labeled "little macintosh", a Mcintosh apple, and a rusty screwdriver, a paper crown, jug of wine, pumpkin, purple disc [sound familiar?] in case you were wondering).

Ready to move onward, Jon entered through the door again. This time, however, there were no guards nor doors, only a long hallway with another door at the end. Traversing down, he was met with a table, with a potion on it labeled "Drink me". So, instead of drinking it, like the idiot he is, he drank his metamorphosis potion, and tucked the new potion into his nothing.

Captain's log, stardate 6283.37.

We came cross a spatial anomaly today. There are powerful energy emissions emanating from it; it seems to be some kind of wormhole. It's like something we've never encountered before. I've ordered to change course to go in.

"A trans-dimensional portal? How did you fit one in something that small?" inquired the admiral. "This would be extremely handy in the field, or on scouting missions."

"A new design. We've come up with a brilliant new battery. It's  new design, for high density storage.." Captain Chekhov smiled. "It's only good for one hop though, afterwards it'll have to recharge." The admiral left Chekhov's station, looking around to the other scientists. Chekhov hoped to test his machine tonight.

The captain left the science station, and entered his quarters. He packed up his old gun, which he happened to have always on his persons, loaded and ready to fire at all times. He dropped by the mess hall and armoury, picking up supplies to prepare for his trip. Suddenly a there was a huge explosion, and the ground shook. Sirens sounded, and panicked men ran around. Three beeps, he thought, a rift. There had not been a natural rift on Tales Prime for a hundred years. Of course, that meant nothing when one could travel though time, but it was still a rare occurrence. Chekhov hastily activated his ring, hoping to not get sucked into the rift.

Chekhov looked around him. He was in a wide, grassy, plain. Few clouds drifted across the sky, and the one sun shone brightly. A dense forest was to the north, a lake to the south. Chekhov could feel his changed physiology. "I see the metamorphosis worked," he commented aloud. He body was in the form of an alicorn, a deep purple with blood-red wings. He was clad in metallic armour, draped with menacing plates and spikes. There were was an inexplicable sword and scabbard across his back. Chekhov consulted his map, and entered the forest.

He met trouble soon. Three manticores leaped out of the surrounding trees, only to be met Chekhov's ready blade. He stepped back, swinging his sword in a long arc. One manticore swerved off, but the other was not quick enough, and received a nasty cut, shearing off an arm. This didn't seem to hurt it, just anger extremely. It threw itself at him, trying to stab Chekhov with his venomous tail. Instead, it just managed to impale itself on the spiky armour. Defeated, it slouched down by a tree and died.

The other manticore was was not stupid. It slinked off through the forest, not wishing death. But what happened to the third? Leaping through the trees with a mighty leap, the third manticore jumped out of a bush, waving a small knife. In a futile attempt to harm Chekhov, the manticore stabbed at his breastplate, but the dagger bounced off.

"Oh $h1t." The manticore managed to exclaim before being knocked unconscious by Chekhov's mail-clad hoof. He tied up the passed-out manticore and slung it over his back.

Commander Derpy was not amused. "What do you mean a rift? How could a rift open on Tales? We destroyed the subplanar binds decades ago! Admiral Hex was there with the science teams. This must have been a targeted attack."

"Captain Chekhov was on ground at the time of the rift," added one of her underlings.

"So what? That information is useless as nipples on a breastplate."

"The captain was experimenting with a transdimensional gate. He might have gotten out before Tales was consumed."

"Really? Get a trace on his gate. We can deduce where he went."

The soldier turned and typed on a computer for several minutes. Finally he answered, "It seems he went to...Equestria."

The commander raced out, finding equipment to contact the Planar Overseer, Luna.

General Tsutsaroth was not amused either. "THERE WAS SURVIVOR? THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A CLEAN ATTACK? WHAT IF HE ESCAPES AND FINDS OUT WHAT HAPPENED?" Raging, K'ril moved threateningly towards the message-bearer.

"Hey hey," he protested, "Don't shoot the messenger!"

So instead, the general sliced off his head.

Jon woke up. He groaned. His head pounded. His arms ached. "Gah!" he shouted. "I have arms again!"

Captain Chekhov looked at him. "So you've woken now? No-don't answer, it was a rhetorical question." He handed (that term is used very loosely) Jon a bowl of soup. "Mind telling me what you're up to?" Jon was busy burying his face in the delicious stew (it was really just normal field rations). He told Chekhov of the recent events, the guards, the room of boxes. When he finished his tale, Chekhov pondered for a moment.

"Hmm...It seems you were taken here in an interplanar rift, but against your will by some superior being. Have you had any experience with this sort of thing before?"

"Well..." responded Jon, "My friend, Blob Bob, once he ate a hamburger and fell through a portal to another world. There were all sorts of weird things there, like floating platforms and apples and bananas. There were also giant purple dinosaurs trying to eat him. It was all very stressful."

"That was certainly an odd place. So now, the main problem. I have the necessary equipment to get us back, but it'll need a few days to charge. Until then, we will need to travel around, perhaps find alternate means if quickening our escape. Fortunately, I have been here before, and I know the Planar Overseer. She can probably help us."

The conversation ended. Jon entered the tent; Chekhov put out the fire and stood watch.