Rise of the Horned God

by voodoo91

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Adventure, Dark
Length: 1342

When ancient forces set there sights on Big Macintosh, the fate of Equestria and his very soul hang in the balance.

A simple life on the farm, thats all Big Macintosh ever asked for. But when dark forces begin to stir in the Everfree forest, the red stallions life suddenly becomes far from simple as he becomes the target of a ancient cult with ties to his familys past.

Now Big mac must deal with strange powers, family secrets, and the attentions of a certain purple princess all culminating in a choice that may change the course of his life forever.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-10-30 00:40:03 UTC

Prologue

Everfree forest, a place avoided by most residents of the neighboring town of ponyville. Well known for its dangerous wildlife, trecherous terrain, and altogether sinister reputation, it stood out as a noticable blemish on the otherwise orderly and peaceful landscape that was Equestria. Combine this with the occasional dissaperance of the few adventerous souls that wandered in and one was left with very few reasons to visit the dark forest, save for the occasional herbal remedy from Zecora, or to conduct clandestine affairs better dealt with away from the prying eyes of others. Unfortuanetly for a earth pony named Salt Lick, his current buisness involved the latter.

Glancing around nervously the grey colored stallion walked deeper into the forest. The trees blocked the night sky creating a shroud of blackness that seemed to almost hungrily devour what meager light his lantern provided. Mentally he kicked himself for the hundreth time for taking on such a bizzare request in the first place. As a scribe at the royal canterlot library he had been asked by an unamed client to look over some family records. not an unusal request in and of itself as nobles were always looking up family history to see who was related to who and other such nonsense. What was unusual was that the family in question seemed to be nothing special , just a long line of moderately succesful farmers with no discernable connections to anypony of great importance, the sole exception being the current oldest daughter who beared the distinction of being one of the elements of harmony. Still, his client had insisted on being thorough and had offered him a good deal of bits to have the documents delivered to him personally...inside the scary woods.

A twig snapped nearby causing Salt lick to jump a bit, by Celestia this place was getting to him. Everywhere he looked he swore he could see dozens of foul shapes staring at him. Maybe he should just go home, forget this whole thing and damn the bits, perhaps that nice cafe was still open and he coul-

"Ah, Mr.Lick im glad to see you could make it"

Salt lick felt his heart stop as he spun around trying to identify the speaker. Out of the darkness a figure emerged  "I do hope the journey from Canterlot wasent too unpleasent, I assume you have the documents my attendant asked for?"

Regaining his composeur as best he could salt lick nervously pulled out a rather large set of scrolls from his pocket, "ah yes, Jet Set i presume?, everything should be here as requested."

"I take it you were thorough in your investigation?"

"Oh yes sir, the entire family tree all the way back to the reign of Discord."

Jet Set promptly grabbed the scroll pulling it open,he scanned the pages quickly and allowed himself a small smile. The documents were indeed thorough and the background of each pony painstakingly detailed, everything he needed to assure things proceeded as planned. closing the scroll he nodded in satisfaction to the increasingly anxious scribe, "marvelous, simply marvelous! your expertise has been most beneficial Mr. Lick how ever can i repay you?"

Salt Lick nodded, eager to get this whole transaction over with and back on the train to Canterlot, "thank you sir your kindness is much appreciated, though if you dont mind i will just settle on the fee we agreed with and ill be on my way." Suddenly Salt Lick realizes the two of them arent alone as shapes became visible from behind Jet Set a pair of hooded ponies, each were wearing a skull mask covered in what appeared to be blood. Two more stepped out from the trees forming a circle around him.

"Ah yes about the that," Jet Set replied with a smug grin "rest assured Mr.Lick payment will be rendered for your services ...the bits will be sent to your relatives along with a generous compensation for your funeral".

Before the meaning of his statement could fully sink in the hooded ponies were upon him. A sudden panic seized him as they grabbed him from behind causing him to lash out and strike one of the figures with a solid smack from his hoof. It was however, futile as he was hoplessly outnumbered, they pinned him down one holding each arm and leg. Jet set sauntered up to the struggling pony, looking down he took a moment to revel in the terror on his face. A lowly commoner, helpless at the mercy of those of higher station, such was the proper way of things after all.

"Come now Mr. Lick no need to fuss," Jet Set cooed, his tone practicly oozing with contempt as he slowly drew a knife from his pocket. "Your being given a very rare oppertunity, something worth far more than bits I assure you, now....hold still".

And with that he stabs the knife down into Salt Licks chest, a large foutain of blood squirts out, covering Jet Set and the hooded figures as a scream peirces the night air. "Do and try and stay with us," Jet Set said casually wiping the blood from his glasses onto his jacket "It finds the offerings ...tastier if there is much suffering involved". He laughs and brings the knife back, beginning the scribes pain anew.

***

A somber procession headed down through the forest. Two rows of six, side by side slowly trudged through the woods chanting hymms in a tounge unknown to most ponies though those that heard it could not help but imagine ancient times and sinister implications in meaning. Walking between the two rows stood another figure holding a stone bowl, his robes a blood red as opposed to the dark brown of the others with skull mask inlaid with various small trinkets of teeth, nails, and other remnants of past victims.

Eventually the congregation came to a stop, halting in front of a small circular clearing in the trees. The red robbed figure raised a hoof signaling for the others to stop. He walked ahead placing the bowl in the center of the clearing backing up a few steps he turned and faced his congregation. All were masked in the skulls of ponies they had personally slain in ritual sacrifice. Like him, they had maken a pact with the dark forces of this world. In exchange for wealth and power, they served their master by commiting acts of unspeakable horror, the likes of which would have sent them all to the executioners block had they been discovered.

"Brothers and sisters," the red robed pony called out in a deep booming voice, "we gather here tonight to offer tribute, as decreed by the oaths signed in the blood of our fathers fathers and as such are passed down to us.Do you accept duties of the servant laid down before you"

"We accept in the name of our Lord" the others droned as one

" do you, accept the duty of the sword, acting as vessels of our lords rage and hatred bringing to bear against the weak and undeserving?"

"We accept in the name of our lord"

" do you accept the duty of the herald, to do everything in your power to bring in a new age, where the bitch queens are laid low and the world is restored to its rightful order under our masters rule?"

"We accept in the name of our lord"

"For too long we have served dutifuly in the shadows but the day of prophesy is soon upon us, thanks to the efforts of brother Jet Set" one of the robed figures at the front of the line puffed out his chest a bit "the one the prophecy fortold will be found and we will take our rightful place as rulers of equestria!"

A loud cry went up amongst the cultists as shouts and praises to there dark master filled the night. while deep in the forest an old god stirred, shifting in anticipation for the bloodshed to come.