The Book of Abel

by Abel Snow

Rating: teen
Tags: Random, Main 6, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Other, Original Character
Length: 1599

A collection of my one-shot stories.

"The Book of Abel" is a simple collection of all my one-shot stories. Rather than make a different submission for every one-shot, I would rather just compile them into one book. Sure I would be sacrificing the quantity of possible stories to put under my belt, but I would rather have quality. Besides, I feel this would be better for me to practice with.

Enjoy!

Published 2013-07-29 04:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2013-07-29 04:10:02 UTC

Bloodeye the Mace

Charrmane pass lay barren and hot under the watchful eye of the setting sun, the fading rays casting an eerie red light across the unmoving bodies of ponies and ghouls alike. The large battered gates hung on broken hinges, the walls crumbling from numerous raids, and the high mountain walls around them towering like unmerciful gods, allowing none too scale their treacherous heights. Crows and other birds of prey circled overhead hungrily, already some were beginning to descend and feed upon the bodies, cawing and screeching for blood to wet their perched throats.

A lone pony sat on a rock that had fallen from the crumbling wall just outside of the broken gates. Amidst the swirling birds and the littered bodies the pony sat, his armor was dull and beaten, the result of countless battles. His tattered cloak hung in shreds on his shoulders, the half-gold, half-silver broach held his cloak around his neck, it was embedded with a sun and moon, the symbol of his new princesses, whom he served dutifully. A blood laden breeze ruffled his grey, short-cut mane and tail, his dirty, bloody and scarred cream colored coat showing through the numerous holes in his armor.

One of the two wings that had adorned his open faced helmet was gone, broken off during his most recent battle, the helmet itself was scratched, dented and scuffed beyond belief, the hole for his horn scorched black from the numerous spells. His plate armor had been abused to the point that some of the plate were held on only by leather straps, others with bits of tough twine. His chain mail was poked full of holes and his shield bent and battered, but of all his gear, his mace remained strong and unyielding beside his armored hoof. My deployment will end soon, he thought, and I can get the repairs I so desperately need...

Looking at his once proud and vibrant brothers-in-arm, the unicorn felt a pang of sorrow pierce his heart, but it was cold and familiar, something he could set aside as easily as he could crush in a ghouls skull. "But no rest for my brothers..." he thought aloud, with a grimace. The battle had been long and hard, but worth the losses as his army of three thousand lay around him and draped over the walls, never to move of their own free will again as their spirits rested in dark rivers of Tartaros.

They would rise again, like the ghouls before them, they would rise again under the control of some unknown dark magic to hunt the living. The memories of his many former companions he would strike down, flickered across his mind as he watched the horizon in the south, his peripheral vision bordered by the high mountain walls of the pass, watching for the imminent sign of another relentless raid. His troops were dead. All of them. He alone sat before the broken gates of Charrmane pass, located at the southern borders of the newly founded Equestria, a large and ominous crack in the sheer mountain range that separated the new country from the bad lands.

His duty as a sworn knight before princesses, Celestia and Luna, was to defend Equestria from all enemies, no matter how great. And ghouls were a great threat indeed. They were vicious, ravaging cannibals that had been living, breathing...loving...ponies once. He shuddered as visions of his first encounter with the undead monsters flashed through his mind.

He had been standing as one of the few dozen guards sent to a lowly peasant village in the south of the newly formed kingdom, bordering the edge of the bad lands. It was one of the few towns that remained that far south since the reported raiding had begun, the occupants were of course reluctant to give up their homes and farmlands, no matter how barren.

He remembered his orders as if he had been given them yesterday; defend the villagers from the unknown threat until further assistance has arrived. Simple enough right? Wrong... They had come during the night, only a half-moon and the millions of stars lit the sky, complementing the patrols flickering torch light held by magic. He had remembered the first grueling screech and moan that had rant the air, as decaying bodies fell on his comrades from out of the dark, tearing at them with broken teeth and limbs.

The hellish creatures had refused to die under the numerous stab and slash wound the unicorn had inflicted with his sword. All around him, the creatures banged on locked doors and attacked civilians and soldiers alike, all falling under the relentless assault of their aggressors. Until he had picked up a blacksmiths hammer and smashed one of their skulls in like an over ripe watermelon. That was how he became a captain of his own detachment. His own little army.

The unicorn returned back to the present as a black bird swooped too close, mistaking him for a dead upright body. A costly mistake for the creature as the unicorns horn flashed, and the bird erupted into flames. Now if only I could do that on hundred of ghouls at once. He watched the blazing bird crumble to the ground like a miniature comet, never flinching once at the sudden act of violence. Something he was used too.

The wind picked up around him and filled with a strange odor he was all too familiar with, it smelled of blood mixed with spiced rum left to stale in the open sun. It was a sign. A sign that indicated his fallen brothers were about to rise again, and that he, the last standing gate guard, must once again fight the undead. But he waited on, sitting himself firmly between the broken gates of the Charrmane pass, and the unprotected kingdom of Equestria.

A low moan reached his ears as the wind picked up, looking around him, the fresh bodies of his comrades began to stir gently as they reanimated, scaring off the birds that cawed angrily at the loss of their meal. His comrades that had died with their eyes open, or those who still had eyes at all, began to glow with a cold purple light, a clear indication of their change. His friends had become ghouls, ready to fight, kill and feast on the flesh of the living. These were not like other undead creatures, they still retained their intelligence and weapon skills, some even retained their magic capabilities, but strangely, none of the pegasus ever flew. The older and more badly decayed bodies that had once been ghouls did not stir, for they were now permanently dead, never to rise again.

In the far distance, far down the crack that was Charrmane pass, he could see more familiar shapes charging forward with uncanny speed, their moans reaching his ears far before their smell.

Rising from his rock, he closed his eyes. His tattered armor and cloak clattering around him, the unicorn magically donned his helmet, gently setting it over the raw half-stump that was one of his ear. His red aura shined as he lifted his battered shield, and his strong unyielding mace. Even now, he was weary, his mind numb from the constant use of magic, but fight on he must, for the sake of the new Equestria, for the sake of all. His princesses had promised him reinforcements and help, but above all, a solution. He did not doubt their word.

Steeling himself for the oncoming tide that would no doubt end his life, the unicorn breathed a calm and steady breath, even as his comrades began to rise around him. Taking another deep breath, he lowered himself further into the depleted wells of his magic, readying himself for the inevitable. Glowing red runes began to trace his armor and mace as he silently cast more spells, his horn flaring briefly with each; spells of well-being, spells of strength and endurance, spells of warding and most important of all, a spell of self sacrifice. A spell that would turn his body into a raging inferno at his last breath.

Lowering himself further into his own well of magic, his former comrades began bursting into balls of flames, much like the bird before. One by one, they ignited and burned to a pile of ash under the ferocious blaze. The oncoming tide of rushing bodies was drawing closer, the rumble of their hooves beating the ground beneath them mercilessly in their mad charge.

The unicorn slowly took another deep breath, his horn glowing like a beacon amidst the battlefield and the setting sun. Opening his eyes, he let the breath go, one eye was a blood red orb, the other with a deep-piercing ice blue iris. Raising his shield and mace, the unicorn threw back his head and bellowed out his war cry "FOR EQUESTRIA!"

The cry rang loud and clear for all to hear, as the battered unicorn charged for the oncoming tide of ghouls, the air around him erupting into walls of flames ready to consume all they touched. The pony smashed in the first ranks, his powerful mind, clear and free of distractions. The pony fought on until he collapsed under the overwhelming tide.

As his body erupted into an enormous ball of flame, his mind felt the touch of his beloved princesses. In his last moments he heard their voices, Rest well, Bloodeye the Mace, And rest he did as he passed into the void, reassured that the princesses had kept their word.