Dogma of a Dragon

by DarkParable

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Princess Celestia, Dark, Human, Main 6, Princess Luna, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Comedy
Length: 8123

So, wake up as a damned Dracolich in Equestria. What do? Mostly run, that's what.

A few simple rules for ensuring survival as a Dracolich.

1) Remember to properly care for your bones. Eat a cow at least once a day. (good source of calcium)
2) A little polish goes a long way. A shiny skull is a target!
3) Watch your step, getting smaller beings out from between your toes is hard.
4) Please, whatever you do, don't try contacting the ponies for help with your new lot in unlife. That cannot end well...
-Maeror, former prince of the northern wastes and current public enemy number three... Right behind whoever's letting loose the parasprites again and that one guy with the face.

I want to thank WebofHope for editing for me. He's been a big help. Thanks you silly sausage! Also ARC190 who's just signed on to help edit as well. Thanks :3

Featured on: 4/9/2014, 9/29/2014

Published 2014-04-08 13:50:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-09-29 15:53:04 UTC

Gesundheit!

Gather weary travelers, for I have a tale to tell.

Its my own sad little story I suppose, and in all honesty its almost too out there to be believable, even for me. I lived it, and I can scarcely believe it. Then again, I suppose that when one dies and awakens not in the afterlife, but within the long dead corpse of a dragon noble... Well things take a step into the far left field. You know, out past "Weird" and into the territory of "Holy fuck, this is some legendary weirdness!" You know, the “Hey… My cat just sprouted wings out his ass and flew backwards while whistling God Save the Queen.” sort of epic-weird.

My story begins as some things are want to do, at the ending of a final chapter and the closing of a book.

Imagine for me if you can the scene I now set. The press of people, hundreds, packing into a long metal tube that is hurtling at high speed through narrow tunnels. The people aboard are, as I said, numerous and packed in tightly to each section. In one corner, amid this sea of living beings, one poor woman comes to know the shame of having her body used for the pleasure of many. Others look on in mixed fear and revulsion as she is forced to endure the attentions of her tormentors, unwilling or unable to help. Imagine for me her quiet whimpers of fear as the knife is held to her throat and rough hands paw at her body, tugging clothing and groping flesh. Suddenly someone takes offence to this sight and forces his way over.

The attention of these animalistic men is drawn by the shouts of annoyance that ring out as this would be hero elbows his way through the crowds. With a nod from their leader one of them breaks away and the rest continue to enjoy their prey. Grumbling, the one sent to deal with the "hero" steps aside, waiting patiently with cold hard steel in his grip. As that man, who only wanted to stop what was an outrage, passes that bit of metal flashes brightly... And is soon stained scarlet. No one helps as that would be hero falls, clutching his torn throat and bleeding slowly to death. His last sight is those grinning animals as they torment that woman, wiping his blood off on her cheek and laughing at her tears.

This is how I died. On a subway, surrounded by people. For attempting to help another, one who I didn't even know, I was killed in much the same manner one slaughtered a pig in the days before "humane" practices. A long ragged gash across the throat to allow the animal to bleed to death. And bleed out I did... I'd like to think that the cowards who could watch a man die and a woman be raped right in public like that will never be able to escape the stain of what they allowed to happen.

Death for me, however, was not meant to be the end.

My memory fades here, becoming a confused jumble of things only half experienced. The only thing I can equate it to is stumbling about, barely awake. Think back to those nights when you come awake at night only just enough to know you're thirsty. Almost unbidden you get to your feet and stumble your way to the kitchen for a glass of water. On the way there you stub your toe, but the pain is far distant, only a ghost of what it will be in the morning. The sights have a dream-like, ethereal quality to them, and in the morning you might only remember a single detail... Like your cat crouched over a mouse it caught or something similar. Whatever you might hear is only background noise to you in that state. In one ear, out the other, with only a little filmy residue to mark its passing. You can't even remember if the water you drank was cold.

That is what I experienced... But it also isn't. I cannot even begin to describe how confusing, and how peaceful, the world beyond the veil of death was. I can however tell you that when my eyes opened again I knew I wasn't where I had been, or a hospital, or even in my own grave... Though that last one is not exactly true.

My eyes opened to the sight of a grinning skull right before me. It was a massive thing to say the least. I swear upon my honor that it was fully the size of a small house, and was in fact home to a family of rats the size of dogs. Such a sight should have filled me with fear, sent me scrambling away from that horrific thing and into a fetal position off in a corner as I shook like a leaf.

It did not.

Such a sight should have repulsed me, after all... It was a skull currently housing a group of the largest and ugliest rodents I'd ever seen.

It did not.

All I felt as I looked upon this skull was a sort of... affection. Some quiet little iota of an emotion. Without much thought I sidled closer to it and let forth a soft sigh of contentment. A sigh that sent an icy mist rolling forth and those rats scurrying off with cries of fear. I thought nothing of it at the time, far too focused instead on that skull and the contentment being close to it brought.

I lay there, curled next to it for a long while, simply existing and letting my mind drift hither, thither, and yon. I couldn’t even begin to tell you how long, to be honest, I just drifted about there. It was one of the most peaceful things I’ve ever experienced. Believe me this, dying in pain as you bleed to death, then finding that nothing hurt and in fact all was calm and quiet can really put a damper on excess thought beyond “...This is nice…” And indeed it was. Haven’t felt that sort of quiet peace since.

...So, I do hope you understand, that when a thought struck me like a bolt from on high my immediate reaction was to leap up and stagger away, more than a bit freaked out. The thought? Oh… Simple. “So nice here next to mother…” Now, that might not sound too off the wall but... First off, my mother has never nor will ever have a head that large. Secondly I highly doubt that I’d ever curl up and cuddle with my mother’s skull. What do you take me for? An ancient Greek with mommy issues?

In any case, that little thought snapped me out of whatever you want to call my stupor with an almost violent flash of sudden common sense. One does not simply cuddle with a cranium… At least not someone who’s got a lick of sanity in their heads… There are times I have to wonder if I qualify for that particular definition.

I took the time to get a good look at my surroundings. To begin with there was that skull. Long, and almost crocodilian in appearance, it was, again, fully the size of a small house. Its long… Snout? Maw? ...Whatever you’d call the bit that would have been its mouth… Was filled with teeth the size of swords, each one curved slightly and a little serrated along the back edge. Those were definitely NOT meant for eating your leafy vegetables. At the top of the skull there was a HUGE set of horns. The long graceful type that swept back for a ways then came up to sharp looking (if large) points. There was something, and even discounting that thought of mine, that just screamed that this skull had once belonged to something female. The slender jaw line, the overall shape… Only a pair of horns and no crest atop the skull plate. I honestly hadn’t a clue why that should matter.

The skull aside for now, the rest of this place was just filled with massive bones. Two distinct skeletons to be exact… One of them missing the skull. Other than that it was actually a fairly beautiful place. Dark stone carved by what must have been claw, smoothed by flame and years of traffic. Columns rose along either side of the long and mostly empty room. Long however, does not cover it. I’d estimate it at about three hundred yards in length and about another two hundred in width. The high ceiling stood so far above my head it was lost to darkness. Far too far outside of the sphere of light that seemed centered around me.

Now, I believe it should be obvious at this point… I had snuggled with a dragon’s skull… And called it mother. With a little shudder I looked down at myself.

A long neck, vertebra devoid of flesh, lead down to a massive breast bone and rib cage. A torc made of equal parts silver and gold lay heavy against my bones. I also couldn’t help but notice the bony snout that happened to be right where the lower half of my face should have been. I lifted a hand, turning my attention to that just to keep from focusing on the obvious… It didn’t help in the least.

A perfect anatomical model for the hands… Feet… Claws… Things of whatever it is I was now greeted me there. Four digits, counting what looked almost like a thumb, capped off in black claws that, despite being attached to bare bones, looked deadly enough for me to want to avoid giving anyone a firm handshake… Let alone a proctology exam. Seriously the sickle shaped things looked almost like pieces of obsidian razors, and something told me that they’d rend flesh as easily as a hot knife goes through butter.

Despite this I slowly lifted that talon to my face and felt about. ...I can’t really explain how it is I could feel anything, but I could. Much like the skull of mother my own was decidedly crocodilian. There were a few large differences however. My snout was a more blunt, my teeth more prominent. Along my jawline there was a secondary set of horns, curling along and providing what I would have to guess was a bit of a natural face guard. Atop my head was the other set, about medium length and curling back over my neck slightly before they took a sudden reverse into sharp points. Protection and a weapon all in one. Both of these seemed to be anchored in this thick plate of bone atop my skull… A… A crest? That seemed to fit. I was male after all, why would I not have one? In any case I slowly turned to take a look at the rest of me.

Dreading what I’d find over my shoulders I steeled myself and looked. What I found was a skeleton similar to those near me, right down to the wing bones. The only differences of course would be that I wasn’t in pieces or missing my head and the gold and silver plating of what must have once been some kind of ceremonial armor along my spine.. I probably would have snapped at this point and gone off the deep end completely had it not been for another one of those sudden thoughts.

“...I have a tail… AND WINGS!”

And indeed I did. At the base of my spine was a lengthy tail, curled slightly in a position that suggested it had been wrapped around my sleeping form. You know, same way a cat’s tail does when they sleep. A sufficient distraction to derail any descent into madness. At least, I think so anyways. Kinda hard to focus on anything but the sudden realization that sitting down without care would probably result in a sore as hell ass end adornment.

I mentioned a sphere of light around me, and well… Between the armored plates and my ribs cage I could see the source now. Where I’d imagine my heart should have been… Had once been… Was a pulsating orb of icy blue power. Mist roll off of it in a slow sheet that ran throughout and surrounded my bones. It held them in place, allowed me to move, and something told me it was me in a sense that even these bones could never claim.

All in all… Well, any fantasy nut could tell you what I was. Myself included. Dungeons and Dragons finally availed me! One word and it wasn’t one I thought I’d ever attach to myself beyond a pen and paper game with the word “Slayer” directly after. Dracolich. I was a dracolich… The kicker however was I had no clue HOW! Such things didn’t exist now did they?

I used to think that too…

My mind more than a bit exhausted by what it had been forced to deal with, I curled myself up away from the other bones. Once again I slipped away, drifting on the tides of my thoughts as they took me where they would… My dreams were… confusing to say the very least.

I saw a great kingdom of dragons, dragons who seemed to be carved from ice and snow, so icy white were their scales. The ruled a land as wintery as they were, but they did not do so through terror and tyranny, no. For all their wintery fierceness there was a certain warmth to them. Some inner glow that shown through each and every one of them. That isn’t to say that they were not indeed fierce.

I watched through the haze of my dreams as these dragons lived their lives. A pair of males butted heads, literally, as their claws clashed against each other scales. They’d tear at one another until one could continue no longer… And then the victor would help his fallen foe to his paws with a smile and kind words of praise, thanking them for being such a worthy foe. They seemed the best of friends, even though they’d only a moment ago attempted to batter one another into the earth.

I watched as the females went about their own activities. A small group of them sat in a circle, speaking softly to one another in a tongue that was almost musical in quality. Then as one they each lifted their heads and voices, the true music flowing forth and filling the area with a song of cold, haunting beauty.

I watched as, high above this all, three dragons sat. Unlike the others, each one was adorned with some bit or bauble. The male, easily large enough to be a little mountain all his own, wore an elaborate set of bands around his horns. Each one carved heavily with runes. Around his neck set a torc, much like my own, of solid gold. A single gem that looked for all the world like a dragon’s eye at its center. His name came to me unbidden. Ignis. He was fire.

The female was a thing of beauty and grace. Her every breath seemed to exude poise and regal bearing. Like her mate, for they could be nothing but, she was graced with little adornments of fine make, but not so gaudy as her husband’s. Silver was the color of her torc and horn rings, each holding a seeming delicacy that I knew was only an illusion. Those bits of metal were as strong as her scales. Her name was Freya. She was the shield maiden.

Between the two however… Between the two was a void, a dragon shaped hole in my dream. One that wore the same tac I did, but there was no true detail to him. I could not even begin to tell you what color his scales were, nor even his name. Only a single word. Maeror. Sorrow. Again and again and again it rang through my head.

With a start I awoke, my vision flickering into focus just in time to note a curious sight. Before me, its face twisted into an expression of open wonder and curiosity, was a little purple horned horse. Its mane was coated in little bits of rock dust, despite the pith helmet it wore. I watched it spread a pair of wings I’d not noticed before and gently flap them, scattering dust about.

I couldn’t resist… I sneezed… Then all hell broke loose with a cry of “OH SWEET CELESTIA!”

Author's Note

And here we go again... Good lords above and below someone save my sanity.

Shake Rattle and Roll

Twilight was having one of those days. You know, one of THOSE days. First there was the parasprites that somehow got into their base camp (she lost her current favorite book to them) Then there was the avalanche. (She still had snow in places she didn't want to think about). And now here she was, right in front a skull that had just sneezed... Science had failed her, logic took a vacation and forgot to write, OH! and common sense just told her to go buck herself... Yep, it was one of those days alright.

At least she wasn’t having one of those weeks. In fact it was quite the contrary as her week had begun with finding a book hidden in one of those little compartments that seemed to be a secret to everypony scattered about her home. It was one of those old tomes, bound in.. Ugh… Leather. The kind that had long since gone out of style due to a general consensus that they were disgusting. Normally she wouldn’t have given it a second look, but the author had caught her eye and with it her interest.

“Dogma of the Second Age by Starswirl the Bearded.”

If that didn’t get the little fanfilly in her going than nothing would. Her entire monday was dedicated to reading through that thick book. Just like that her plans to go learn those Zebrican meditation techniques went right out the bloody window. By the time the sun had set she’d finished the book and thus began her second reading, the one in which notes are taken!

That was what she spent her tuesday doing, rereading and taking down notes on the part of this book that just called to her like a siren’s song. A good portion of the tome was dedicated to what Starswirl called “The Northern Dragons” and just how shockingly different they were from the common Equestrian dragons. One passage in particular had caught her eye.

“It is commonly accepted knowledge that the dragons who once lived in the far north were tyrannical beings of boundless rage and hate. It was from them that the windigos came, buoyed along by their foul breath... One should not always believe the dogma of an age long passed however."

That one little passage… Well, to say the least it took hold of Twilight’s mind and steered it along like a pack pony behind a Hobbit. If Starswirl himself had thought there might be more to these northern dragons… Well, she just had to learn all she could!

...Turns out that wasn’t much. What little actual solid information there was in “Dogma” told her nothing of real substance. It simply spoke of how, even during Starswirl’s time, these dragons were thought to have been "Mindless beasts. Cold and hard as the land in which they lived. Tyrants of the ice." Well that didn’t sit too well with her, and so she went digging further. That brought her to Wednesday.

A little jaunt off to Canterlot and the royal archives got her a bit more. A little description and comparison between the two dragonic subspecies for one. Not much, but it was still interesting. According to her research, the northern dragons had only a name and overall shape in common with the Equestrian dragons. They were, in general, a little larger and stockier. Their scales always tended towards wintery colors. Gems weren't food for them, they were predators, and the main reason for the lack of caribou. Considering how rugged the area they lived in it made sense that they'd reflect that she supposed. Much more built towards surviving the cold climate and ensuring the species survived.

The Equestrian dragons however didn’t seem plagued by this at all. Along the lines they’d gained the ability to consume gems and other minerals and that was where their strength lay. Evolution played its hoof and their mineral rich diet made their scales almost unbreakable over the years. They didn’t have to fight for anything really, as nothing could harm them or pierce their armored scales.

Well, that had been interesting, but still… Not what she had been looking for. And so she dug deeper and thus came up with what she’d been looking for. A good solid mention of where these dragons had once lived. Once upon a time, even before the Crystal Empire had been founded, the frozen north had been home to these dragons of the ice and snow. Specifically their capital had been the solitary mountain near the extreme edge of that place.

Twilight, after that discovery, had fallen asleep right at the stroke of midnight. Her entire Thursday was spent face down, muzzle buried in a book, sound asleep.

Friday had been spent gathering what she needed for an expedition, which was really just getting her friends together. Within hours her and the rest of the mane six were shoehorned into the royal car of the Friendship Express to the Crystal Empire, chatting excitedly about what might await them. Grand piles of treasure, ancient knowledge lost to the ages, glory, fame, and a few other things… Maybe a shot at playing at being Daring Do.

That brings us to Saturday. A saturday filled with parasprites, snow, and sneezing skulls. Not what she really wanted after teleporting everypony from the crystal palace to The Lone Mountain. Sure, that had been a pretty easy feat for her now that she was an alicorn… But still, she’d slept like a rock that night.

I however, wasn’t to know a bit of this. What I did know was that I had a purple horse with a horn and wings (and stylishly pithy helmet) screaming right in my face as five more mini-horses came running. Now, I might have woken up an undead dragon and all that, but frankly I found the fact that I was being charged at to be a bit more of a cause for alarm right then and there.

Scrabbling about, my claws clacking loudly against the stone floor, I hastily backed away. Apparently small equines find moving piles of bones to be as frightening as I find them running at me to be disconcerting because no sooner had I done that then a collective nope rolled through them all.
Six miniature horses, five of whom had but a moment ago been charging in like the bear cavalry, all went tripping over themselves in a rush to get together in a tight little huddle of horse-flesh. Sure, they were shaking like leaves, but the were shooting me looks that would have probably been intimidating if they were… Actually intimidating. Which is to say… If they weren’t adorable.

Aside from the purple pithy pony there was a pink one that seemed to be stricken with a case of the shakes because she stood there vibrating and shakily stuttering out something about this being a doozy. Now, the term pink might be misleading because she was pink in much the same way as the sun is bright… Which is to say very much so. Pink fur, darker pink mane, a lightish red (PINK!) vest that had “Level 15 bard” written on the back of it… Yep. Pink, and apparently a bard if the advertising wasn’t false.

Then there was one dressed as a bit of a bad western stereotype. Rawhide stetson, rugged looking coat, well built and solid as a rock even at first glance. She was orage, and was frankly the one with the second best death glare… Also the only one there who looked as if she could do some damage. The hat and coat though just made me wonder if she’d be pulling a revolver from somewhere and talking through clinched teeth.

Next to her was a riot of color and ruffled feathers. This little bundle of quivering wings was a nice stately blue color… Right up till you got to the mane and tail. Then it seemed as if someone had dropped multiple buckets of paint on her. Seriously, either that or her parents were geneticists who REALLY loved clowns and wanted a daughter in the circus. Aside from the multi-colored mane and such however those eyes of her’s were probably best suited to glaring. They were red. Everyone knows red eyes make for the best glares, evil or otherwise.

Another one of them caught my eye by virtue of being the whitest thing I’d seen in a long damn time. Seriously, who carved a mini-horse outta marble and breathed life into it… Then saw fit to add in a purple mane and tail that looked as if they’d been left in a curler or twenty for an obscenely long time? I had no clue, but I did know this. Horn on head, too much make up, and an up-do that would not be out of place on a overly glamorize porn set made me want to avoid poking her. One should be careful when touching working girls after all.

It took me a bit to notice the last one, mostly because she was the only one not looking at me as if I kicked a puppy and needed to die, but her hiding behind the others helped in that regard as well. She was a buttery yellow color that brought to mind warm summer sun over a field of daisies… Or some such bull shit. Her mane and tail, both overly long, were a light rose color and apparently made for great curtains if the way she hide behind them was any indication.

Anyways, pardon the rambling nature of my observational skills when freshly awoken, and in such a rude manner too.

Frowning, or at least attempting to, from my place near the wall formed by mother’s rib cage, I stared back at them all for what seemed like hours. None of us moved, aside from a slight twitch or two on their various parts, until a sneeze once again broke the stillness of the tomb. A sneeze that brought forth an explosion of confetti and sent the pink one back a few feet.

I couldn’t help it, years of social norms weighed heavily upon me and I opened my mouth. “Bless you.” I said, at least as far as I’m aware. Lemme tell you, what came out was not a polite little blessing of pardon for a sneeze… No, what rolled out over my teeth and jaw bones was… A seriously dusty sounding coughing fit. No the “Bless you.” came after that stopped. Much to the apparent surprise of the little horsies.

“Uhh, did that thar thang jus’ say summat?” asked the orange one. “Cuz I swar’ I done heard it say summat.”

“Silly AJ, he said ‘Bl-hackcoucghcoughhack bless you.’ Weren’t you paying attention?” This came from the pink one.

“Oh, well, ‘ight then… What tha hay is it, anyhow?” asked AJ after a moment, blinking in a manner that highly suggested a slight reboot to her brain had just occurred.

The answer came from little miss pith helmet herself. You know, the one who thought it would be funny to scream right in a fellow’s face first thing in the… Well, when he was sleeping anyways. She was rather long winded about it so I’ll paraphrase for you.

“Well, judging from the fact that its obviously a set of reanimated dragon bones, a northern dragon at that, and that it spoke plain Equish I can safely assume its some form of tomb guardian. Most likely a spirit bound to the bones there through dark magic.” ...Or some such bull shit anyways. Long story short she thought I was essentially a forbidden magical guard for this place. And, in her own words, “Obviously not a very good one if its not attacked yet.”

It was then that I chose to chime in. “Technically I’m undea-” only to be rudely interrupted by a blue ball of fur and feathers impacting my snout at high speeds. The impact knocked my skull right off and send it rolling about.

Sounding supremely smug the little ballistic pony projectile let out a little guffaw at my predicament before she spoke in one of the most grating voices I have ever heard. “For a whatever you said Twi it sure ain’t that tough.”

Had I not been directing my body in a scramble after my head in what I’m sure looked like something out of a cartoon I would have had a witty remark about cheap shots and those who employed them. All in all, I’d just been handed a first contact type of thing, and lost my head over it… Oh joy… Even I’m not immune to bad puns.

Author's Note

And here we have ponies proper. More shall be coming eventually. My bouts of creativity are few and far between these days... I blame AI honestly, and specifically their art program. Sapped my love of drawing right out of me and made doing things like this a chore.

Any errors will be fixed as this is being uploaded prior to editing. That's what happens when you do things at 4:30am eh?

Squeak-a Squeak-a sque-THUNK!

Author's Note

Alright folks. Here is the completed version of chapter three. I'm already working on number the fourth. For those of you curious, the exact words used for the spell or dear undead friend used are "Stone. Shape. Mold."

I've decided to sort of mix rules here for dragonic magic. Much like the D&D style dragons that were the inspiration for the northern dragons in this story, they are capable of casting spells much like any wizard or sorcerer. However, I couldn't really resist adding in a little Skyrim-esq touch. All verbal components to their spells consist of three words, much like a full dragon shout. Their breath weapons and spell-like abilities (such as ice walking in the case of white dragons) don't require these spell components due to them being abilities natural to the species.

All comments and feed back is of course welcome, but as always I ask that should you down vote this story you take the time to explain why in the comments. I, afterall, can't improve if I don't know what I've done wrong, now can I?

Squeak-a Squeak-a sque-THUNK!

It took me five minutes to catch my head, five minutes of that blue pony with the wings rolling about laughing. Five minutes of her apparent friends attempting to either foul me up and send me to the ground or scatter more of me. Five minutes of something worthy of the Benny Hill theme… Needless to say this was not doing anything good for my mood.

When I finally managed to get my head on straight and get my bearings I was treated to the all so wonderful sight of that blue menace laying there struggling to breath through the great bouts of laughter that rocked her to the core. Just there, all alone and vulnerable, her friends scattered about as they tried to find various ways of “dispelling” me… I couldn’t just let such an opportunity pass.

I reached out and plucked her up, holding her tightly as her laughter turned into a startled little ghasp. She wriggled and squirmed like a fish on a hook, but found my grip to be a bit too much to free herself from. Had I been able to I would have smiled at the look of complete and utter shock on her face. Shock that was slowly turning to horror and pain as I squeezed her tight enough to make her squeak… Like a dog toy.

I held her there for a few seconds before she turned a slight purple, then loosened my grip once more. She took in a massive breath, coughing and hacking for a few moments before, once again, I worked her like a squeaky toy. Squeeze. Relax. Squeeze. Relax. Squeak. Inhale. Squeak. Inhale… It was pretty damn therapeutic, let me tell ya. Especially after she’d made me have to chase down my own skull.

It should be noted that while I was enjoying my new toy the other mini-horses were kind of just sitting there, staring with what I’m sure were highly bewildered expressions… All but the pink one who had taken up my squeak toy’s old job of laughing fit to break something. Sadly, this cartoonish cliche of the “Villain” having the upper hand can never last long. Though I suppose a few minutes is longer than such things usually last so… Points to me?

Don’t ask me how in the world it worked, or what in the world possessed the pony I had in claw to try it… But she bit me… and it hurt. Not a lot, but still, I’d not felt much at all when she went and used my head for a soccer ball. As such I do hope you can understand that I was rather surprised at the sudden sharp pain in my hand. Surprised enough that I went and flung the little blue annoyance away with a dusty coughing cry of “Ouch!”

The impromptu pony projectile flew rather unerringly into the orange one, and tumbling and rolling they went, winding up in a heap of limbs, feathers, and a rather out of place stetson. Hats are not typically worn on one’s ass end after all.

“Consarn it Rainbow! Ya got wings, use ‘em girl… And get your hoof off mah face.” Said the pony who’d been made into a landing pad, her voice muffled by the aforementioned facefull of blue hoof.

“Well get your dock off my head and take your hat off mine!” came the rather much more so muffled reply from Rainbow, she of the hatted hind-end. Though to be fair I doubt even she could understand what she was saying exactly so you’ll have to pardon me if that wasn’t exactly right… She did indeed have a hat on her ass though.

Once again we were one and all subjected to one of those perfect cartoon moments. You know, where something amusing is going on and everyone there, no matter what, stops to stare at whatever it is? Yes, exactly one of those. You see, its kind of hard not to watch a pair of ponies attempt to wriggle their way free off a highly compromising position… Though to be dead honest this was the kind of thing that would have me blushing if I had the ability to do so… Two clearly female beings, rolling about on the ground all tangled up together and making some rather suggestive noises every now and again… Yep! Softcore porn, just add mini-horse.

Me staring like that however had nothing on the look on the purple one’s face. Now that was absolutely priceless. She’d gone beet red, her jaw hanging slack and eye’s wide as she watched her friends wrestle about like a pair of highly energetic lovers who fell into a vat of industrial strength adhesive. As I watched her wings slowly went stiff, though to be honest I had no idea what that was about.

The yellow one wasn’t much better, though she did do a spot on impression of a fainting goat, complete with the bleating sound and everything.

The other two had fallen against one another, laughing like loons… Though the marshmallow pony managed to do so in a manner approaching elegance, what with the hoof over her mouth and the crystal bell tones of her laughter… The other one was a laugh track from a studio audience to say the least.

As for myself… Well, with a shake of my head and a facepalm that sounded a lot like a bone chime going off I excused myself and went looking for an exit. Things had gotten far too awkward in there for me. Much much too awkward.

I was lost. No two ways about it. One would think that, being in what looking to be some kind of grand hall it would have been easy to find an exit I could fit through… One would of course be wrong as could be. So wrong in fact I’d consider twatting them over the head with a giant rolled up newspaper and yelling exactly what they were in their face… Wrong, just to be clear… They’re wrong.

At the moment I found myself in what I think might have been a side passage for some kind of royal palace. The walls were stone, but sized for beings the size of those skeletons that I’d been curled up with when I awoke… It should be noted then that the decorations were simply breath taking and that they made me feel almost tiny next to the scenes the depicted in stunning bas relief.

Carved into the solid stone walls were hundreds and hundreds of tiny little runes that, taken altogether, formed a great sweeping epic made up of the very words that told the tale they showed. A massive dragon, one I could not help but recognize from that vision I was treated to back in the main hall, was chief among the images here. Ignis, the high king of the North. These were his deeds and feats of strength. Here he was, carving the great hall with his own claws and flame. There, meeting his mate and, in the tradition then, doing battle with her. A wrestling match that cracked the very earth beneath them. And there! There he was, standing atop his mountain, holding fast and fighting to his last breath against a swarm of small creatures with wings and spears while massive crystal spires rose around him. There he lay, curled with his fallen mate and son as his world went dark and that last breath left him.

This was his life on display before me. This was the life of my fa- Holy shit what was that?!

I’d been so lost in the wall art I’d been taken completely by surprise as a rather large boom seemed to give its best college try at shaking the world to pieces. Dust and ice chips rained down from above me, coating my bones and grinding in between my joints in a manner most irritating. Of course it was made all the more so as I scrambled like mad to get to where that sound had seemed to come from. I didn’t make it another fifty feet before once again…

BOOM!

That one took me clean off my paws, sending me to the floor in a great rattling pile of bones… That thankfully didn’t scatter. Even so, it took me a moment or two to get upright again, and no sooner had I done so than

BOOM!

that earth shaking concussive noise went off again, though it seemed to be slightly quieter to be honest.

Shaking myself off, and wishing I could frown, I started off again in a slightly less mad scramble to discover the source of that simply frightening sound. After all, if it sounds like it might bring down who knows how many tons of rock atop your head, it just might and it’s probably best to put a stop to it as soon as one can… Or to get the fuck out of there. Seeing as to how that last one was beyond me currently, going to see if I could stop it had just become the number one thing on my to do list.

Back in the main hall Twilight Sparkle was busy applying her hoof to her face again and again and again. “Dang it Pinkie… When a sign in an ancient ruin says not to touch something… Don’t touch it.” Though of course it was far too late for that… Pinkie had already found and pulled that damned lever. One clearly marked as “Dangerous.” and that one “Should not touch.”

No one told her Pinkie couldn’t read old draconic though, and Pinkie was of the school of thought that one must always activate buttons, switches, levers, and the like to see what it is they do… No one had told Pinkie that this was a bad idea though.

It wasn’t as if anyone could hear her words though, because not fifty feet away a pair of large statues in the shape of dragons were now rather animate. Their wings were slowly drawing back for yet another beat that would of course stir up a great gale of a wind and set the very air to thrumming with the force behind the motion. It had only been her quick thinking and overly powerful shield spell that kept her and her friends from being blown away… Though it had the unfortunate effect of amplifying the sound for those under the bubble… A curiously bell shaped bubble at that. Oh well, that’s what one gets for casting in haste, and what’s some minor hearing loss between friends? At least it couldn’t get any wor- ...She just had to think that didn’t she?

Once again face meet hoof with force as that big animated dragon skeleton rounded a corner and came skidding a halt right in front of her shield spell… Just in time to be sent crashing down atop it by that damned gale the statues stirred up. ...She really hoped that it didn’t weigh too much, she was already getting a humdinger of a headache. She really did not want to have to hold up some kind of heavy object too. Newly made princess with much enhanced magical stamina or no, she really didn’t want that.

She didn’t really get a say in it though.

With a great rattling crash (that did nothing at all for her headache) she found herself indeed being made to hold up the… Not so great weight of a large draconic skeleton. One that, somehow, looked less than amused… Discounting that toothy grin on its skull of course. Damn bone heads, always smiling at the most inappropriate times.

For its part in all the the dragonic bone pile in question could really only offer what looked like a helpless shrug. What was it supposed to do after all? Not as if it had any sort of say in what the laws of inertia happened to be doing to it. After all, it just didn’t have the mass required to resist being moved by the force applied to it by the wind. As such, movement was bound to happen.

Shaking her head sharply, both to force herself to focus and to bring her attention back to her spell work, Twilight hunkered down and tried to pointedly ignore the annoyance that was the dragon… She was partially successful, and would have enjoyed her usual level of obliviousness (usual only when focusing on a project, or so she’d tell it) had Rarity not poked her in the ribs with a rather loud call of “What is that BEAST doing?!”

Looking up, again, Twilight just couldn’t believe her eyes at all.

You know, I can honestly say that before today hearing an odd voice in my head (it echoed by the way… Not surprising, my skull is hollow after all) would have disturbed me, and possibly sent me seeking professional help. However, after waking up as the ultimate aspiration of many a runway model… Err, not that I assume most models WANT to be the size of a house and made entirely out of bones, mind you. Just meant thinner than is strictly healthy… Anyways, after something like that, I suppose I can be forgiven for listening to random voices in my head.

Between the gale that threw me against that wanna-be bubble shield and the next to come I got back to my paws and put the shield at my back. On that little voices directions I slowly worked one of my forepaws through a series of little gestures, muttering the words it fed me all the while.

“Terram. Conferam. Fingunt…” over and over again. Slowly, the light in my chest brightened by a few degrees of magnitude before that glow spread to my wriggling digits. As I watched, unsure of exactly what it was I was doing, the earth and stone in front of me began to twitch and move, rising up with a mounting speed. When I finished, and that voice went silent, a good hundred feet of stone, dirt, and bits of loose earth had formed itself into a huge angled wall before me, just high enough to provide me with ample cover from the oncoming winds.

Needless to say I was dumbfounded. I mean, finding myself to suddenly be a dragon, and an undead one at that, was one thing… To actually have performed magic? That was something else entirely. What else besides magic could it have been though? I mean… It sure as hell is hot wasn’t some stage trick. That wall was far too solid for that… And I’d felt it. Felt the fabric of the world warp itself in response to what I’d asked of it. Felt a force far greater than myself leap to obey my commands… Or were they mine? I stared down at the paw I’d used for the somatic part of whatever spell I’d just cast and had to wonder… Was it really me who did this, or that voice in my skull that fed me the instructions.

I wasn’t going to get an answer any time soon most likely. Mostly because while I was busy puzzling out of I did that, the purple pony princess had apparently taken offence at being shown up… Or at least I would assume so considering she threw her pith helmet at me.

Twilight couldn’t believe what she’d just seen at all. Not. At. All. It went against everything she happened to know about magic, dragons, and (surprisingly) guardian constructs set to watch tombs. Dragons couldn’t do magic, at least not the sort of active spell work it would take to raise a wall like that. Magic didn’t require silly words, most of the time anyways, and certainly no foolish hoof waving… At least so her mentor had always told her. But the biggest insult of all in her opinion, was that someone had gone and made a tomb guardian with more common sense than herself! Really, she couldn;t believe she’d not though to do that within seconds of the first gust of wind. It was an obvious solution, and one for more comfortable than the shield she’d thrown up… The same shield that she was sure would be contributing to some hearing loss for her and her friends.

Due in part to all this, and partially because she had one killer headache, Twilight did the first thing that came to mind. Undoing the chin strap on her helmet she lifted it off her head, took careful aim, and let it fly. Now, Twilight had never been the best of shots when it came to physical projectiles… But this time her aim was true. She watched her helmet fly unerringly and impact that (in her opinion) smug looking skull hard enough to dent it… Dent the helmet that is. Much to her annoyance the skull seemed just fine… Though it did slowly turn her way. The twin points of azure fire that were the things eyes looked more than a bit confused, though how unnatural flames could look anything other than eerie and… Well… Unnatural was completely beyond her at the moment. And so was what happened next.

In a polite, if dusty sounding, voice that paradoxical pile of vulture pickings opened its maw and spoke. “...Would you mind terribly turning those statue things off? Sounds as if they’re about to shake the whole mountain down.”

Twilight could take no more and promptly keeled over in a dead faint. As was a common quote from pinkie when she did this… Twilight.exe had crashed and required a reboot.