Equestria: City of Guilds

Rushing through alleyways, a Rakdos cultist leapt over various pots and barrels, knocking them over in an attempt to halt the small squad of Boros soldiers hunting him down. Leaping up and climbing into a window, he hid himself from view long enough to pull out the pair of knives embedded in his chest, stifling a small moan of pleasure as they dug into his fingers.

“By Rakdos’ scythe, how was I supposed to know that one gal that volunteered was one of their ‘best and brightest’?” He thought, snickering slightly by the end.

Noticing how unnaturally quiet the room he had barged into had become, he turned to see a tall woman standing over him, wings spread in an intimidating manner and sword pointed at his throat. He remembered her, most recently, from a number of the raids on Rakdos distraction clubs that he had gotten himself caught up in, and smiled at the memories.

“Just give up now, demon spawn.” She stated icily, while he merely stood up and placed a foot on the window frame.

“Is that how you treat your childhood friend, Thalia?” He provoked, leaning back slightly and smiling, “Because to be brutally honest, I’m rather hurt.”

“You aren’t my friend, Atzo.” Thalia said, a sliver of sadness escaping into her tone, “You’re just some rampaging murderer who shares the same name as my friend.”

“I’m sorry, Thalia.” Atzo started, a genuine tear of sorrow rolling down his cheek and his devilish smile never leaving his face, “I really am. But those two people have always been just one.”

Leaping backwards out the window and impaling an elite that had tried to sneak up on him in the head with a knife, Atzo bounded from wall to wall in a rather vain attempt to lose the angel that had been chasing after him for many weeks. Noticing the lack of shouting that should have been coming from behind him, Atzo stopped on an outcropping and turned around. There weren’t any Boros in sight, except for the one that he had dragged along on his knife, and he was far too busy being dead to shout at anything.

Turning back to continue on, Atzo quickly came face to face with an Izzet who obviously hadn’t been there moments earlier. The Izzet could be easiest described as having been caught in several dozen explosions, about half of which had been intentional. His hair, or what was left of it, was a mess of a lighter shade of brown and blonde, with the occasional charred patch. The metal canisters that seemed to always be attached to his sides were spewing fire from the bottom, most likely how he was staying in the air without standing on something. His left arm was probably what stood out the most, having come from one of those elemental things that the Izzet always seemed to let loose in the city, or at least the revues that Atzo had been to. The most annoying thing though, was his smile. He had a perpetually smug grin, as if he always knew what you were and weren’t planning and had something figured out so that you would never get your way.

“Why are you here, Father?” Atzo started with a sigh, hiding his knives in his back.

“So you don’t know, hmm.” The Izzet stated, scratching his chin idly, “Ah well, it matters not. I wanted to show you and your mother something I made.”

Before he could protest how most of his father’s experiments exploded when he went to show them to anyone, he and Atzo were both teleported in a spectacularly flashy manner to the foot of Vitu-Ghazi, where Atzo’s mother, Ficlawa, stood waiting.

“There you are!” Ficlawa called, rushing over to Atzo and his father, “It’s been far too long since I last saw you.”

While Ficlawa was picked up and spun lightly by Atzo’s father, Atzo himself turned away and mimed gagging, putting public displays of affection on the level that most other people would put torture. Far in the distance, but still close enough to see it, a pair of Rakdos laugh at Atzo’s reaction. Seeing this in the corner of her eye, Ficlawa extracts herself from Atzo’s father’s loving embrace and wraps her arms around her son, a gesture he is rather reluctant to return.

“Uh, it’s good to see you again, mama!” Atzo begins rather timidly, yelping as she yanks out one of the knives in his back.

“Just once,” Ficlawa started, her disappointed tone causing a small flock of birds nearby to roost on her shoulders and bury their heads under their wings, “I wish that you’d come to visit me without getting yourself in trouble with the Boros first.”

“Yes, mama.” Atzo said glumly, his head hung low.

“Atta boy, now let’s go.” Atzo’s father said, ushering Ficlawa and Atzo towards Nivix, frightening away the birds.

“Hold on, Zeliv.” Ficlawa began, stopping while Zeliv merely looked over his shoulder towards her, “You still haven’t told us you want us to see.”

“A weird like no other.” Zeliv said simply, blinking the three of them into his lab.

“Is this going to be like that last weird you made?” Atzo asked cautiously.

“No, though I did learn a substantial amount about how black mana and green mana interact. This time, I used not just blue mana and red mana, like in the standard weird, but white mana, black mana and green mana as well.” Zeliv rambled, smiling like the madman he is and unveiling his latest creation.

“It’s an abomination.” Atzo deadpanned, while Ficlawa pondered whether she should let it live or put it down as an act of mercy.

“More like fan-”

BOOM

All was well in the quiet town of Ponyville, an occurrence that its residents knew bode ill intentions. Many were staying inside, hoping that whatever it was that would wreak havoc upon their town would hurry up and get it over with. There were still a few ponies wandering around town, and businesses were still open, but they were all prepared to run for it at the first sign of trouble. All except for one. Bouncing through town, a pink po-

“That’s Pinkie Pie, narrator.”

Uh, right. Where was I? Ah, here. Bouncing through town, Pinkie Pie hummed a merry tune to herself, blissfully oblivious to the cause of everypony else’s anxiety.

“Oh, no no no.” Pinkie started, waiting patiently for a moment before continuing, “I know what’s got everyone so down. But they just don’t know how great it’ll be!”

Whatever just stop interrupting me will you?

“Okie dokie lokie.” And with that, Pinkie continued bouncing to her destination; the stretch of the Everfree Forest that sits between Fluttershy’s cottage and the Apple farm, which coincidentally was the same place where she entered years earlier to defeat Nightmare Moon with Twilight and the rest of her closest friends. Sitting just outside the forest, Pinkie starts counting down from one hundred fairly quickly.

“Five four three two one!” She finished, before an unnaturally large grin, even for her, grew on her face and she started shaking uncontrollably, “Oh, here they come!”

BOOM

“Called it!” Pinkie hollered as she was sent flying, though that may have just been her, by the explosion, stopping mid-air moments before bowling over her friends, slowly descending towards the ground.

“What was that, Pinkie?” Twilight asked, worry in her tone and overlooking the blatant disregard for the laws of physics that was just demonstrated.

“The biggest doozie I ever felt, that’s for sure.” Pinkie replied, her eyes shifting from side to side above Twilight’s head, as if there were something there that only she could see. “Oh, yeah!” Pinkie continued. “I saw a few ponies just after the explosion, and I don’t recognize any of them.” Liar. “We should probably go and see if they’re all right.”

Ignoring the fact that Pinkie seemed to be glaring at the lock of her mane that hangs in front of her face, Twilight and the rest of her friends follow Pinkie, who is also running backwards like a cheater, to where she apparently saw the new ponies.

Stopping by the large burnt patch of dirt, which rather oddly ceased to be before reach the Everfree Forest, the six mares find a few ponies lying in various horribly uncomfortable positions, the youngest of which is bleeding lightly.

“Oh my goodness,” Fluttershy says quickly, rushing over to the ash grey colt and pressing her hooves against him to stop the flow of blood, “Applejack, this little colt is pretty badly cut up. I need some bandages, pronto.” Noticing her directness, Applejack stares at Fluttershy incredulously for a moment before shaking it off and galloping away to retrieve medical supplies, all of which happens faster than Fluttershy can say, “If you don’t mind, that is.”

Stirring slightly, Atzo rolls away from Fluttershy, revealing the remaining knife in his back. He yelps loudly as she pulls it out quickly and forcefully. Tossing it away, Fluttershy can hear the colt murmuring something, though by the time she can figure out what it is, Atzo is already speaking loud enough for everypony to hear.

“I’m sorry, mama.” Atzo starts, still rolling away from Fluttershy, “I didn’t mean to get into trouble with those guards. I just wanted to have some fun.”

The pearl white unicorn mare groaned slightly and pushed herself up onto her hooves, blinking her eyes open as if she had only gotten them five minutes earlier, which is impossible highly improbable.

“It’s okay, sweetie.” Ficlawa begins, slowly becoming more aware of her surroundings, “I forgi-”

Her eyes full of disbelief, Ficlawa’s mouth hangs open as she looks around at the small group of ponies, which she obviously knows, stopping on Fluttershy, who is still trying to deal with Atzo’s wounds. Don’t ask me how she knows the ash grey colt is Atzo, she just does.

“Take your hooves off my son.” Ficlawa says icily, her eyes glowing a faint green colour and her normally, at a guess, docile forest-green-coloured mane and tail clumping into vine-like structures and extending towards Fluttershy, who is standing her ground with a whimper.

“You should probably do what she says. It won’t be pretty for you if you don’t.” Zeliv starts, floating upside-down next to Fluttershy, who screams, jumps and lands on her back. “Huh. Pegasi are like mountain goats. Curious.”

“We aren’t on Ravnica anymore, are we mama?” Atzo asks, staring wide-eyed at his own hooves.

“No, sweetie.” Ficlawa says, watching Zeliv float around with the metal canisters strapped to his chest barrel. “No we’re not.”