At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapters

Chapter 1: Signs and Portents
Chapter 3: A Tale of Two Sieges (Redfern)
Chapter 4: A Tale of Two Sieges (Horn's Reach)
Chapter 5: Sworn by the Horn of a Unicorn
Chapter 6: The Genius and the Mudhoof
Chapter 7: The Waggle Dance
Chapter 8: The High Court's Sentence
Chapter 9: Poor Wand'ring Ones
Chapter 10: Cloud Cuckoo Land It Was Not
Chapter 11: Border Crossing
Chapter 12: Cruelty Trap
Chapter 13: Black Hooves
Chapter 14: The Truth, and Its Consequences
Chapter 15: Everypony Should Believe in Something
Chapter 16: Village of the Polearms
Chapter 17: Non-Player Character
Chapter 19: Horsewords
Chapter 20: The Vital Importance of Snacking
Chapter 21: The Last Day
Chapter 22: A Princess in the City of Angels
Chapter 23: Into the Lion's Den
Chapter 24: The Lady...and the Lady
Chapter 25: Panic Control
Chapter 26: Orientation
Chapter 27: The Hermit
Chapter 28: An Unexpected Rescue
Chapter 29: She's Not Entirely Stable
Chapter 30: Calling in the Cavalry
Chapter 31: The Best Boat Ever
Chapter 32: An Alternative Theory
Chapter 33: Escort Mission
Chapter 34: Let It Go
Chapter 35: Magical Hydraulics
Chapter 37: Celestia the Cheating Cheater Cheats Some More
Chapter 38: A Horse with Two Names
Chapter 39: Introductions
Chapter 40: That Trapper's a Keeper
Chapter 41: Syd and Marte Krofft This Isn't
Chapter 42: Reunions, Happy and Otherwise
Chapter 43: Eggwife's Treasure
Chapter 44: Falling Towards Apotheosis
Chapter 45: One Last Game
Bonus Chapter: Howard
Chapter 47: Two Sisters
Chapter 48: Rebirth
Chapter 18: At the Inn of the Prancing Pony
Chapter 36: You Are In a Maze of Twisty Little Passages, All Alike
Preface
Chapter 2: Transfiguration and Descent
Chapter 46: Isolation
Credits & Acknowledgements

Chapter 1: Signs and Portents

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 1: Signs and Portents

The wails of the damned were the preferred musical accompaniment for the Royal Court of King Discord the Last of Discordia—or “Equestria”, as it was once known. The crack of the whip was slated to re-enter the soundscape tomorrow, after a brief respite.

The court itself was an irregular eleven-sided room, with seven of the sides exposed to the outside. Most of the court congregated there, because despite the lack of a roof, the rain falling down somehow managed to miss the inhabitants. Also, the enclosed side of the room was where the tsunami and sea monster took up their regular abode. “Scylla and Charybdis,” He called them.

Discord was Classically-trained you see, although it was the Classics of a world then completely unknown to Equestria.

The draconequine god sat in His iron throne, elevated ten ponyheights above His subjects—the roof was bowed to accommodate Him. He bore an annoyed expression, which was never a good sign. Below Him, the ponies, griffons and dragons capered for His sport, but none of it amused Him, not even when a knot of them descended into a brawl to settle the question of which particular caper they were supposed to be engaged in.

They rather resembled ants from Discord’s elevated position. Realizing this, He pulled an enormous magnifying glass out of nowhere and with a snap of His fingers brought the sun into position to have some fun.

Suddenly the doors were burst off of their hinges by a small explosion, as the two Alicorn Sisters trotted into the room. They wore a pair of piebald dressing gowns, with odd clumps of parchment stuffed into random corners to fulfill Discord’s dress code for his jesters. Suspended by Celestia’s magic was a wooden pipe or recorder, while Luna carried a small bagpipe around her neck. Also around both ponies’ necks were iron rings set with a multitude of jingle bells, that rang a discordant chorus with every step of their hooves.

The center bell on Celestia’s collar was painted a brilliant white that glowed like a star hanging from her neck, while Luna wore a bell painted so black that it seemed to be a hole into another dimension.

“A contest! A contest!” cried Luna. She had to wait a minute before repeating herself, as the explosion had deafened every mortal inhabitant of the room.

“Oh, I do so love explosions!” With a wave of His paw, Discord disbursed the thick cloud of smoke that had filled the room, pushing it through the strange barrier in the roof. “Ah, my two little rebels!” He cried out with eagerness. “Come to wager your father this time?”

Celestia scowled. From under one wing she produced a small lead casket, which she placed on the ground. “I offer you the secret of the amniomorphic spell, which you have never been able to decipher.”

“What do I want with an alicorn-making spell?” Discord asked with a wrinkled lip. “You two are more than enough trouble to Me as it is.”

Celestia fixed Him with a sinister smile while resting one hoof on the casket. “What can be made can be unmade,” she told Him.

“...Or remade,” He realized. “With that spell I could erase the very definition of breed, nation or even family. An entire world of mismatched chimerae! Your offer is more than adequate. And what would you have Me give up if I lose?”

“Old Equestria,” said Luna, stepping forward to stand beside her sister. “You can have the rest of Equus, but we want the ancient homelands.”

“That frozen wasteland!” Discord exclaimed. “Are you indeed that desperate? Well, I’m not going to play by those terms—they are simply too unfair! We will play for New Equestria, or nothing at all!”

The inhabitants of the room looked at each other in amazement. From His throne, Discord beamed. Even after untold aeons of chaos, He was still capable of surprising His subjects.

Celestia and Luna shared a happy look before they made their answer: “Agreed!”

Discord popped down to stand between the two sisters, resting one mismatched arm across each pony’s withers. “As the challenged party, I shall determine the means of this little game: Each of us shall perform a song, and whichever song this crowd prefers shall win. The instruments that we shall perform will be...ourselves. You go first. Hurry up, hurry up! I don’t have all day.”

Celestia and Luna hesitantly put down their recorder and bagpipe. After clearing her throat, Luna made a high-pitched hum from the back of her throat, her attempt to emulate the drone of her bagpipe. It took her a couple of seconds to find her pitch, at which point Celestia joined in with a whistle that wasn’t nearly reedy enough to sound like a recorder.

Together, they played and danced a quick saltarello of Luna’s composition, with their hooves making the percussion, and even managing to make the horrible jangling of the bells sound like it belonged with everything else. The song they played was a fun and moving piece, the best of the kind of music from the last years before Discord. In human terms, it belonged comfortably in the tradition of the European troubadours of the Fourteenth Century. The two alicorns put their all into the all-too-brief performance, before concluding by looking over at their audience...

...all of whom were frozen in ice.

With a snap of His fingers, Discord returned them to life, and watched intently as they milled about in confusion. “Hmm...” He said with a raised eyebrow. “They don’t seem very impressed with your performance at all! Now it’s My turn!”

With a bright flash of light, the draconequus returned to the top of His platform, the throne kicked down to make room for His solo. He opened His mouth, and sang: “Trarara reraaah. Trara ra raaah.”

The thawed audience looked up at Him in complete bewilderment, as it appeared that their king and god had abandoned the Equine language altogether.

“Largo al factorum della citta. Largo!”

And then Discord yanked Equestrian musical practices five centuries into the future. Alicorns, ponies, griffons and dragons all listened spellbound to the most incredible musical performance the planet had ever seen. It didn’t matter that not a one of them understood the words the god was singing. The few among the group who remembered what music actually was in this time of madness wept for joy at what they heard. The performance was only five minutes long, but it was the most incredible five minutes that the band of witnesses would ever experience in their lives.

“Sono il factorum!” sang Discord. “Della cittá! Sono il factorum! Della cittá, della cittá, della cittá! Dellaaaah! Ciiii—”

And that’s when Luna and Celestia blasted Him with the Elements of Harmony, for that’s what the white and black bells around their necks actually were: the Element of Light and the Element of Darkness.

And in one single instant, the most terrifying being to have ever existed was turned to stone.

“We did it!” Luna exclaimed. “We’re free! We’re free!”

“Oh, I wouldn’t be too sure of that.”

The room suddenly vanished, leaving Celestia, Luna and Discord’s statue floating in endless blackness. From all around them, the voice of Discord chuckled in amusement.

“Discord!” cried Luna, addressing the voice. “Don’t try to back out of this!”

“Oh I wouldn’t imagine it,” the voice responded. “After all, you did beat Me, unfair and unsquare. You finally learned Discord’s Rule Number One: There are no rules.”

Celestia shivered. Freed from His body, Discord’s voice rumbled like the force of nature that He was. It seemed like an avalanche was addressing them rather than a being of flesh and blood.

“Welll...good!” Celestia exclaimed. “We’ve taken back Equestria, and it is now ours to rule!”

“Yes!” Discord’s voice replied. “Yes indeed! Equestria is now yours to rule! Every last grain, every last drop! All at your harmonious command! So enjoy it while you can!”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Luna.

“It means that you are now usurpers, stealers of My rightful crown! And the fate of all usurpers is the same: Revolution!”

Celestia stepped up to the statue and addressed it. “You’re not going to take this victory away from us, Discord! I won’t let You!”

As she spoke, Luna walked around to face the back of the statue.

“I won’t do anything, sweet Celestia! You’re going to lose the crown all by yourself!”

And as He said this, the tip of His stone tail whipped out and tapped Luna on the head, causing her eyes to swirl.

“Ungrateful sister!” Luna cried.

The two of them were now standing in the new throne room in Whinnychester. It was one hundred years later.

“You have hoarded the love of our subjects all to yourself and to your cursed day!” Luna screamed, her coat darkening and her voice deepening. “This injustice will last no longer. The ponies will be mine! And the night will last forever!”

“No!” Celestia screamed as she jolted awake.

It took a few seconds for the alicorn to even realize that she was awake. Her vision was at first a dim blood-red haze, which gradually faded to a slate-gray darkness. Mentally, she had to fight through an even thicker haze, working outward from the fact of her identity to try and grasp where she was. She also had to adjust to a change in size: she was as small as an average mare, and her pink mane lay flat and heavy on her back, weighed down by her sweat.

Eventually the persistent clues being fed to her by her ears rose to her conscious attention: somewhere nearby a dragon was roaring.

Celestia rose uncertainly to her black hooves. Every one of her joints screamed in pain from disuse. She seemed unnaturally heavy, like the ground was pulling at her. Another pull was present in her thoughts, away from rational thought, and back to the comfort of resumed slumber.

She shook this suggestion off with a toss of her head. She knew the identity of the dragon that was roaring. It was her good friend Kameneva, a gentle artist who would never harm a soul. Kameneva was the one who had graciously allowed her to stay in her cave on the western face of the Canterhorn, where nopony would ever find her. But the sounds that surrounded those roars made it clear that Kameneva was now trying her very best to kill somepony.

Although it felt like her legs were shackled to leaden weights, Celestia forced her way forward, one agonizing step at a time, until she emerged from the cave and took in the sight before her.

The bloated red dragon, barely recognizable to Celestia as the diminutive artist she remembered, was hovering in the air, sweeping the rocky field with gouts of flame. The blackened nature of the soil around the dragon revealed that she had been doing this for quite some time, and the weakness of her current flame revealed that she was nearing the end of her capacity. The target of her wrath was a party of five ponies, huddled together under the protection of a shield spell being projected from a ruby-tipped staff that a bearded earth pony was holding in place. A pegasus with partial burns on his wings was being healed by a unicorn. Twin pegasai armed with crossbows on their backs were dipping arrows in turn into a vial containing a nasty green substance that burned holes in the gravel where it dripped down. At the center of the ponies’ huddle, Celestia could clearly see a pile of jewels and bits that they had plundered from the cave.

Filled with indignation, Celestia took to the sky. Seeking out the setting sun, she reached out and reclaimed the immense magical might she had surrendered along with her title. In a matter of moments, she had been restored to her fully-powered form. “WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” she demanded, with all the authority of a god-princess.

The scene before her froze in place, all heads turned in shock in her direction. “Princess Celestia!” the healer unicorn cried out in recognition.

“Ponies, Kammy, please. Let us find some sort of accommodation,” the alicorn pleaded.

“Kammy” responded to this overture by trying to incinerate her.

Celestia effortlessly blocked the flames. “Kammy! Come to your senses!” she pleaded, but to no avail. The dragon, on seeing that the flames would not work, shot towards her, jaws open wide to snap around her torso.

“It must be an illusion!” Celestia heard the archer ponies exclaim in unison. “Everypony knows that the Princess is dead.”

“It is the Princess!” she heard the healer insist.

This was all that Celestia managed to hear before she had flown out of range. It was clear to her that her friend was lost in the throes of a greed rage, and had to be snapped out of it before she managed to hurt somepony. This did not mean that the party of thieves would be allowed to get away with their crime, just that she would be forced to deal with them later. She did wonder though, when Kameneva managed to collect a treasure worth plundering—she remembered the dragon’s cave as being devoid of valuables when she had moved in. How long have I been sleeping? she wondered.

At that moment, the dragon put on a burst of speed and snapped her jaws upon Celestia’s tail. The alicorn made the tail blaze out in a fiery nova, causing the dragon to squeal in pain. “Where is your mind, Kammy?” she asked out loud. “Even in a greed rage you would have remembered that trick.” She raced upwards, planning to force her pursuer into unconsciousness when they reached the edge of the atmosphere.

But the chase ended far quicker than the ex-princess had anticipated. Immediately after they had both passed through an invisible magical barrier, she heard Kameneva’s furious wing-beats calm into a hovering pattern. “Where...where am I?” the dragon asked her. “Princess, what happened?”

Celestia turned around with a relieved grin, to see that the dragon had shrunk down to her normal size, twice that of the alicorn. “It is good to have you back, Kammy,” she said. “And please, it’s just Celestia. I don’t deserve that title.”

“Do not say that, my friend,” the dragon said, flying up to reach the alicorn’s eye level. “Say merely that you have put the title aside until you have regained the strength to bear its burdens.”

“If you insist,” Celestia said with a small smile, although in her mind she was far from convinced of the truth of the advice she was given. “Now, do you know what happened to you down there?”

Kameneva looked away. “I do indeed,” she said with shame. “It was the Curse of Equestria.”

“The...Curse of Equestria?” Celestia asked, wide-eyed.

“Yes, it set in within a year of your slumber,” Kameneva explained. “The animals outside my cave started to become more vicious, to seem to revel in their violence against each other. My fellow dragons began to flee to the east, each of them urging me to abandon you and join them.” She rubbed absently at one cheek, at the tears she would be shedding if she were a pony. “They told me of barely controlled urges to rampage and hoard, to...to see the ponies as enemies instead of friends. And they claimed that the ponies were changing as well, fighting each other at every opportunity. I tried to wake you...but I failed.” The dragon looked up at the reddish glow on the horizon where the sun had finished setting. “I was afraid to leave the cave, afraid that something might happen to you if I left you alone. Gradually, I came to see you as the heart of my hoard, and started raiding the pony settlements to find treasures worthy of setting beside you. Even as I was losing my mind, I was glad, because I knew I would always keep you safe from harm.”

“Oh, Kammy,” a tearful Celestia said, flying over to the dragon so she could embrace her. “Thank you for serving me at such tremendous cost to yourself. How long...?”

“You’ve been asleep for twelve years,” Kameneva replied.

“Twelve years!”

“Well it’s alright now!” the dragon said with a catch in her voice. “You’re awake, and you can fix everything, with your faithful knight Kammy by your side! We’ll go to New Odessa, to get the help of the other dragons and—”

“New Odessa?” asked Celestia.

“What was once the pony settlement of Baltimare,” said Kameneva. “The dragons who fled the curse told me that the eastern coast was free of its effects, and so they formed a New Draconia while they sought the cause and cure to what was happening.”

“And the ponies of Baltimare?”

“I do not know.”

Celestia separated herself from Kameneva. “Then that is where you should go,” she told her. “Tell your brethren what has happened, and, if they have found a way to resist the effects of the curse, come rejoin me at your cave in one month’s time. That should give me long enough to get a grasp on what has happened to my little ponies.”

“But comrade, I want to stand by your side!” Kameneva insisted.

“And you will stand by me, Dame Kammy, once you’re safe from the curse,” Celestia told her. “But until then, you are a threat, to yourself, to the ponies...”

“...And to you,” the dragon finished sadly. “Very well, Celestia. May the Luck of the Dragons protect you!” She rushed in for a quick hug.

Celestia reached up and touched each of Kameneva’s closed eyes with her horn. “This enchantment will allow you to see the barrier where the curse begins,” Celestia explained. “It will last for one day.”

“Thank you,” Kameneva whispered, her eyes faintly glowing from Celestia’s spell. Then she quickly turned and began to fly eastward without looking back.

Celestia knew that her friend kept her eyes forward to keep from breaking down at the thought that they might never see each other again. She watched the dwindling form of the scholar, impressing the sight to her memory. When she could see nobody else in the sky she sighed, then gracefully turned to make a large circle in the air.

She used her magical senses to trace out the shape of the hemispherical barrier. From its curvature, it appeared to indeed reach the ground at a point west of Baltimare and the other port cities. The area it encompassed appeared to be roughly half the size of Equestria at its height, and contained in its western and southern reaches some of the wildest areas included in its borders. Its center, as near as she could discern, was in the vicinity of the Castle of the Two Sisters in Whinnychester...assuming that the city of Whinnychester had ever been rebuilt in the fifteen years since the final battle between herself and Nightmare Moon. Celestia gasped audibly as she realized that the battle may in fact have been the cause of the Curse in the first place. She vowed once more to make things right.

Celestia glided cautiously through the barrier. Its magic seemed utterly foreign to her, and far too complex for her to analyze to any degree of confidence. It seemed to strengthen some forms of magic while weakening others. Its effect on personality and inhibitions was far too subtle for her to discern, although she knew it had to be present.

Having passed through the barrier, the alicorn surveyed the landscape. Where Whinnychester once stood was not the blacked ruin she remembered with horror and shame, but instead a dense forest, utterly devoid of any sign of civilization. She picked out many of the pony cities she had helped to found after the defeat of Discord, but over half of them appeared to be abandoned. Farms existed, but the average size appeared to be much smaller than before. There were also large areas where former farmland had reverted back into the forest, plain or swamp it had been before earth ponies under her leadership had tamed the land. She saw no sign of the great cloud city of Pegasopolis, but instead spotted at least six smaller settlements, each clearly adorned with fortress-like features that hadn’t existed since the days when the three tribes were at war with each other.

As she descended further, it became clear that the entire landscape was dotted with castles, palaces and other stone fortresses. The wilderness areas formed by the abandoned farmland seemed to split the land inside the barrier into a dozen or more separate territories. It was as if the clock had been rolled back to the Pre-Unification Era while she had been gone.

Celestia glided down to the rocky plain in front of Kameneva’s cave. She could see a cart being pulled by the bearded earth pony from before fleeing eastward, packed to nearly the point of collapse with the dragon’s abandoned treasure. Knowing that the goods had almost certainly been stolen from their rightful owners by Kameneva under the influence of the curse, Celestia no longer begrudged the group of plunderers the right to take the riches for themselves, but she still wished to speak with them to learn what she could about where this curse came from, and how it had affected them. Covetousness, and the foolhardiness to attack a greed-bloated dragon in her own cave seemed to be very likely symptoms. The twin archer pegasai flew above the cart, and appeared to be giving words of encouragement to the earth pony to put on speed. The previously injured pegasus, on the other hoof, was urging the healer unicorn to flee. This was because the unicorn was in the same position she had been ever since recognizing Princess Celestia, sitting on her rump and looking up at the alicorn in total awe. The unicorn’s coat was periwinkle blue, her mane was peach orange, and her cutie mark was a bumblebee pulling a tiny chariot. Celestia was struck by the unicorn’s brown eyes, a very rare eye color for ponies. The pegasus’ coat was a very pale blue, her mane was the same shade of orange as the unicorn’s, and her cutie mark was a cloud in the shape of another bumblebee. What most struck Celestia, however, was the small rod that was attached to a mid-torso belt by a thin cable. Celestia instantly recognized it as a magic wand, an extremely powerful and extremely rare artifact.

“Rigged!” Celestia heard the pegasus exclaim. “Rigged! Rigged! Ellen!”

The unicorn turned her head. “What, Big?” she asked, with some annoyance.

“Let’s get out of here, Rigged!” the pegasus insisted.

“No!” the unicorn proclaimed, and turned back to quickly address Celestia, who was only a ponyheight above her at this point. “Oh mighty Celestia, please accept me as your acolyte, so that I may teach your truths to the masses! I surrender myself to you, body and—”

Before a shocked Celestia was able to protest, she felt herself buffeted by fierce winds that seemed to spring up out of nowhere. She was suddenly aware of a powerful presence that seemed to press in on them from all directions. A palpable feeling of disembodied disapproval centered around the unicorn named Rigged, and began to squeeze. The winds raised Rigged into the air, and lightning bolts began to fly out of the suddenly gathered clouds all around her. The unicorn mare appeared to be engaged in a fierce argument with an invisible presence, but Celestia was unable to make out the words.

With a scream, Rigged was suddenly released from whatever force was holding her, causing her to fall hard to the ground.

Celestia reached out a black hoof to help her up.

“I’m sorry!” Rigged told the alicorn as she wobbled to her hooves. “I’d swear myself to you, but my mistress Foaltus will not release me. Forgive me!” She then turned and ran away.

“I am not a goddess!” Celestia cried out, to no response. The pegasus named Big had long since fled. Celestia should have been alone at this point, but she felt the presence from before turn its malice against her.

The alicorn braced herself. She was prepared for a physical assault, like she had witnessed against Rigged. She was prepared for a psychic attack, or an attempt to modify her personality, like what must have happened to Kameneva. What she was not prepared for was an overwhelming compulsion to fall asleep. This was after all what she had wanted twelve years ago, the only way she could think of to escape her own personal Tartarus. And so it was nearly impossible for her to resist it. She felt the strength drain completely from her body. With a last desperate effort, she launched herself into the sky, in a vain attempt to get through the barrier into safety. But before she had even gotten ten ponyheights above the ground, she had completely lost control of her body.

The last thing she saw before passing into an endless sleep was the moon, floating in the sky, stained with the sigil of the Nightmare, the sign of her failure.

Chapter 3: A Tale of Two Sieges (Redfern)

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 3: A Tale of Two Sieges (Redfern)

The pony known as Hope Springs spent nearly a month in the village of Redfern. She made herself available to perform odd jobs for anypony that wanted her, the more grueling the better. And slowly she built up her strength, along with a meager collection of copper and silver coins.

One day Loam Planter took her a short ways outside the western walls of the village (for the village was surrounded with a two-ponyheight wall on all sides other than the eastern road up to the Canterhorn). He took her to a place where the soil was freshly dug. Sitting to one side were the bodies of a half-dozen dead cats and four dead dogs.

“Well,” he said half-jokingly, “you did say to give you a chance at all of the jobs around town.”

Celestia said nothing, picking up one of several shovels that was stacked next to the bodies with her hooves, and got to work, with Loam working right beside her.

“What happened to them?” she asked as she began to break the dirt.

“Plague,” Loam said simply as he did the same. Only after she stared at him in disbelief at his tone did he explain himself: “We consider ourselves lucky that our plague only affects our pets. It used to be...well it used to be worse, let me leave it at that. This is what’s built up in the past week.”

#

“Alright, finished,” Celestia said grimly after the bodies had been disposed of. “I feel bad asking for payment after that.”

“Nevertheless,” Loam said grandly, “payment is what you are going to receive. Behold!”

Celestia looked at the fork-shaped object that he had presented her from his saddlebags. “What is this?”

“It’s a slingshot,” Loam explained, “and your weapon from now on.”

“I’m not going to use a weapon,” Celestia said, trying to give the item back.

“There’s no way you can survive without one,” Loam said, pushing the item into her chest. “Especially against a unicorn.” Hooking one hoof around the body of the weapon, he picked up a small stone from the ground with another. Sitting back on his rump, he placed the rock against the elastic, pulled back, and let the pebble sail effortlessly across the breadth of the field, where it bounced off of a great big, dull blue rock. “I like to imagine that little crack is one of their horns, summoning a nasty spell,” he joked. “The slingshot is the weapon of a peasant. Unlike a dagger, you’ll never have to rush into close quarters to retrieve it after throwing it, and its ammunition, the rocks of the fields, are endless. Best of all, if it breaks, you can easily repair or replace it with no coin out of satchel.”

Celestia sighed and accepted her gift, then looked it over. “This main part is wood, I can see that. But what is this stretchy part?”

“Animal intestine. You’ll find plenty of sources along the side of the road to replace it if it ever breaks.”

The mare dropped the object with horror.

With an exasperated sigh, the stallion picked up the weapon and passed it back to her. “Take it,” he insisted. “You won’t survive for a minute around heroes if you can’t defend yourself.”

“No!” she replied, with more force than she intended. “Fighting back physically will only label me as an enemy in their eyes, and I have no chance of outfighting them, if your stories are true. I will get what I need from them with friendship, and nothing more.”

Loam Planter was lost for words for nearly a minute. “From anypony else, I’d call those the words of a madpony. From you...I can almost believe it.”

Celestia’s time with the ponies of Redfern came to an end on the night when she was awakened by the ringing of the town’s warning bell.

She clambered down the stairs of the inn and onto the street.

“Heroes! Heroes!” came the cry carried from one pony to another. The tone was far from welcoming.

#

Celestia joined many of the other able-bodied ponies on the parapet of the city wall. Hearing that the crisis was impending but not immediate, she joined the line to look through the town’s scope.

The “scope” was something that had apparently been invented during Celestia’s sleep, or else stolen from some heroes—the mayor, who had dragged it into town one day a couple of years back, refused to say anything, “so no others may be implicated beside me”. In form, it was a pair of seed-shaped pieces of polished glass, held in position by a rickety brass framework. There was a large toothed gear that focused the image one could see through them.

Long before she had reached the front of the line, Celestia had learned what it was that everypony was watching: a group of four heroes engaged in a fight against about a dozen “skeleton dogs”. The fight was taking place on a trunk road that passed several hundred strides to the west of Redfern’s borders. The town was on full alert, because creatures defeated by heroes had a bad habit of taking out their frustrations on the nearest pony habitation. Mrs. and Mr. Sifter, the town bakers, had found an ingenious way to use the scope to aim the town’s mighty catapult, and were busy loading a stone for use against any attackers. There were other weapons waiting for use on the top of the wall, spear-throwers and caldrons of oil sitting above piles of wood and kindling, but these ponies were not warriors. Celestia knew this, and so did they. So they left the grim work to the only family in town that wanted it, and stood around hoping they wouldn’t be called upon to single-hoofedly defend their village. Because they very much doubted that they would be able to do so successfully.

Now if Celestia had an objection against using a weapon to protect herself against ponies, she had no qualms whatsoever in weaponry being used to defend a city of dozens of ponies against a monster or two.

“One of them’s broken loose!” the voice of the innkeeper reported to the others. “It’s heading straight this way!”

“Range?” asked the voice of Mrs. Sifter.

There was a short pause. From Celestia’s participation in a drill a few days earlier, she knew that there was a hoof-made pointer attached to the pivot of the scope. This moved across a painted wooden card mounted on the side, which converted the vertical angle into a distance. “108 strides!” he reported.

“We can’t fire until 20,” said Mr. Sifter. “Flower, if you could...”

This would be the point where Mrs. Sifter would raise up her fine-maned head of nearly snow-white hair, allowing it to be caught by the breeze.

“One and a quarter strides per second, from the south-southwest,” Mr. Sifter announced, basing his calculation on what he saw his wife’s mane do.

Mrs. Sifter immediately started adjusting the catapult, turning wheels and pulling ropes. “Mr. Sifter gets the scope at 50 strides!” she ordered the crowd. “If anypony sees anything else heading this way, or anything else we need to know, do not hesitate to inform us!” In a quieter tone, she addressed the innkeeper. “Skeleton dog?”

“That’s what it looks like,” the innkeeper’s voice replied.

“Half-pony stone?” Mr. Sifter asked his wife.

“Agreed.”

“Skeleton dogs?” Celestia asked herself after a few seconds of pondering. “Are you sure that they’re made from bone?!” she asked the innkeeper.

“Um...no!” called back the voice of her innkeeper. “It’s pretty dark—could be anything thin! 85 strides and closing!”

Celestia closed her earth pony eyes, and a second later opened the eyes of a pegasus. “Maybe it’s a timberwolf!” Celestia called back, except this was no mere suggestion. Quickly, she blinked again to get her eyes back to normal. She didn’t think this counted as using any magic, but she hoped by being brief she hadn’t brought the town into any additional danger.

Mrs. and Mr. Sifter looked at each other before calling out “Expert!” as one. “Expert” was one of the few times when one was allowed to cut in the all-important scope-viewing line.

Celestia galloped past the other ponies to look through the scope, which was directly in front of the catapult. To be honest, with this light and these scratched lenses, it would have been nearly impossible for an earth pony or unicorn to be sure that what they were seeing was absolutely a timberwolf. But they didn’t have to know that. “Yup, definitely a timberwolf,” she reported.

“Bring up the coal cage!” Mrs. Sifter ordered the ponies on the ground below as she bucked the stone out of the catapult’s basket. She then began furiously adjusting the weapon for the new payload. “Range?!”

Celestia looked down at the card. “75 strides.”

“We’ll fire at 10.”

“10?” the nearby innkeeper asked incredulously.

“A stone we can lob in the night unseen,” Mrs. Sifter quickly explained. “But if we don’t launch a fire payload really close, that creature will be able to see it and dodge.” She looked up at Celestia and pointed. “Just set that lever to—”

At that moment, a blinding ball of fire erupted on the horizon, causing all of the ponies on the wall to crouch down in fear, crying out at their temporary blindness. All of them except for the pony who once looked into the sun on a regular basis. The light of the fireball allowed Celestia to take in everything that was going on in the distant battle between adventurer ponies and timberwolves. And one thing that her glimpse made clear was that that battle was over.

She remembered to crouch down just as the others were recovering.

“Who can still see?” a dazed Mr. Sifter asked. After a moment of silence, he cried out, “Somepony had to have been blinking at that exact moment, right?”

“Uh...I can still see,” Celestia reported. She pretended to scan around with the scope. “The other timberwolves have been destroyed, and one of the heroes is gravely injured. The lone attacker is closing faster now. 65 strides...60...”

“Here’s the coal cage!” declared the spindly colt son of the Sifters, a round wooden lattice balanced upon his back. The family worked together to get the coal-filled object into position, based mostly on touch, as their vision was still slow to come back to them. From his saddlebags, the colt produced a glass bottle full of a viscous and noxious-smelling substance. He began pouring it over the coals like syrup, until an impatient Mr. Sifter grabbed it from him with his mouth and smashed the bottle onto the cage, immediately saturating it.

“50 strides!” reported Celestia, who prepared to step aside for Mr. Sifter to take over. “Should I—?”

“No!” ordered Mrs. Sifter. She pulled a lever that caused the scope to snap out of Celestia’s hooves to point due west, and a heavy harness to drop down behind it. “None of us can see well enough. The scope is now tied directly to the catapult, and the distance finder will now tell you where the payload will land, not how far away the creature is. Line up the scope, and keep it on the attacker. It will fire as soon as the distance finder reads...did you adjust the trigger point?”

Celestia looked over at the lever Mrs. Sifter had been pointing at when the fireball had gone off. She quickly moved it from “20” to “10”. “I did now.”

Mrs. Sifter smiled. “Good girl. The distance finder will trigger the launch, so you must keep the cross-hairs absolutely fixed! Do you understand?”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Celestia said with a salute. She stepped into the harness and one heavy step at a time, rotated the entire apparatus until it was pointed at the approaching timberwolf. “25 strides!” she announced. At this distance, nopony needed special eyes to see the approaching creature. Now that it was close to its target, it began to dodge and weave, but Celestia kept up with every move, keeping the creature fixed in her sights. “20 strides!” She heard a “whoosh!” behind her as the basket was ignited. “15! 14! 13! 12!” She felt a trigger beginning to be engaged. “11...10!”

With a mighty twang and a rapid uprush of air, the flaming basket of coal sailed into the air.

Celestia rushed with the others to the edge of the wall. The timberwolf looked to be 25 strides away, but it was closing at a dizzying speed. At the same time, the great ball of yellow and orange light was sailing towards it in slow motion.

Everypony held their breath.

At the last moment, the creatures eyes flicked upwards, and it tried desperately to get out of the way. As a result, the projectile only managed to turn the creature’s backside into flaming splinters, the rest of it falling apart into its constituent branches and twigs.

The villagers cried out in victory, even as Celestia cried out in dismay.

“Reload!” she ordered them. “Quickly, before—”

“It’s reforming!” the mayor cried out in horror.

“We haven’t got another cage!” yelled Mr. Sifter.

“Use the stone! Use anything!”

“It’s on the wall!”

It shouldn’t have been possible. The wall of the city leaned forward at a slight angle, to make it impossible to climb. But it was made out of wood, and no wooden barrier could stop a timberwolf. The re-constituted creature, half its original size, raced up the wall like it was a downward slope, plant juices dribbling from its snapping maw. Soon it would reach the top, and sail over it to begin its rampage in the unprotected village.

“Collapse the wall,” the mayor ordered with a sob.

This was the one part of the civic defense drill that no pony wanted to ever carry out. Stamping their hooves in unison at just the right frequency, a dozen earth ponies caused the western section of the wall to collapse around them.

The timberwolf cried out in terror as it fell with them into the growing cloud of dust.

#

Celestia slowly lifted herself to her hooves, disrupting a small pile of rubble that had fallen on top of her. She considered herself extremely lucky to not have any broken bones, although she did have a cut across her ribs on her right side; a superficial wound, but painful nonetheless. From the groans around her, she could not be entirely certain that the other ponies had shared her luck.

Unfortunately, there was another sound in the dust-filled air: the growling of a very angry timberwolf. Celestia knew what she had to do. She checked to see that her saddlebags were in place, and that they contained all of her accumulated earnings. She looked over at the little Sifter colt, who was lying beside her. “Golddust?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss Springs?”

“If you see Loam Planter after this, thank him for all he’s done for me. And tell Mr. Potter that his rent is sitting on my writing desk.”

The colt’s eyes went wide. “Miss? You’re not gonna—?”

“Hey sap-for-brains!” she cried out at the timberwolf. “If you’re looking for somepony to blame for being so tiny, why don’t you blame me?”

With a roar, a shape began to cut through the dust cloud, heading straight for her. Celestia launched herself out of the hole in the wall the collapse had created, headed straight for the campfire that the heroes were currently sitting around.

As she ran, Celestia kept track of two things: how close the timberwolf was to her heels, and whether anypony at the campfire had noticed their approach. Unfortunately for her, the timberwolf was closing faster than she could possibly get to the camp. Furthermore, her speed was being reduced further by the freshly-dug up soil she was now racing across...

She was crossing the animal graveyard. And that meant the great big, dull blue rock ought to be right around...here!

Celestia used her hind legs to jump into the air, sailing over the rock. The timberwolf, on the other hand, ran right into the rock, causing it to splinter.

She landed hard on one of her forehooves, causing her to tumble. She quickly raised herself to her hooves as the creature began once more to reform—until it was taken out by a thin arrow of flame launched by one of the ponies at the campfire.

Celestia collapsed to the ground, panting, as three of the four ponies from the campfire ran towards her. In truth, she realized there was no way she would have been able to escape the timberwolf a second time, meaning that the heroes had truly saved her life. It had taken an entire village, plus an enormous amount of luck, and that still wasn’t enough to stop one of a type of creature that these four ponies had taken a dozen of out of commission in a matter of seconds.

And then Celestia felt something inside of herself, something incredible, something impossible. Within her heart had been born a second wellspring of magic, one completely different from the one she had possessed for her entire life. This was Hope Springs’ wellspring, Celestia intuited, not Celestia’s.

She was now truly an earth pony, instead of the nothing she had made herself into to avoid the Curse. This world, this warped, mad world, had rewarded her...for contributing to the death of a living creature.

She felt like she was going to be sick.

Chapter 4: A Tale of Two Sieges (Horn's Reach)

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 4: A Tale of Two Sieges (Horn’s Reach)

Three stallions surrounded Celestia, one of each breed, and they were silently looking down at her. Silently judging whether she would live to see tomorrow’s sunrise. The lack of a cutie mark was clearly a vital part of their quiet interrogation of her. She could make them out, dimly, thanks to the light of a nearby campfire that silhouetted them in the darkness.

“Thank you,” she said to them after regaining her breath. “Thank you for saving me.”

The three of them looked at each other.

“My name’s Hope Springs,” she said, holding up one hoof.

“Swipe,” said a dark blue pegasus with a white mane as he extended his hoof to pull Celestia to her hooves. He was wearing an open dark-brown duster jacket with holes in the back for his wings and embroidered with his cutie mark, a pile of coins of many denominations. “I hope you don’t mind getting your pretty little hooves dirty.” He said this with a half-smile, one brow raised and a twinkle in the eye. Once she was up on her hooves, he turned and pointed at the yellow-coated, orange-maned earth pony wearing a star-covered purple robe and matching pointed hat. “This is Firelit, and this is—”

“Vaya Con Dios, Mademoiselle,” the red unicorn with yellow mane said, taking Celestia’s hoof and spending several seconds kissing it. He was wearing a long black cassock embroidered with his cutie mark, a cartoon heart with wings.

This caused the pony named Swipe to badly stifle a loud laugh.

“Excuse me,” Celestia said, looking down at her hoof.

“Oh, just call him Vaya,” Firelit said. “Everybody else does.”

Celestia gently removed her hoof from Vaya’s embrace, causing Swipe to finally break out in laughter.

“So what does she have?” asked the voice of the fourth member of the party.

“So speaks our brave and valiant leader,” said Swipe. He led the others back to a partially-built campsite off the side of the road. A large fire was blazing in a pit created out of stones, and surrounding it were four sheepskins, each laid out flat on the ground.

Celestia quickly turned away from this sight to see the earth pony passing a small glass vial containing a red liquid to a second earth pony lying on the roadway. As she watched, the wounds and gashes visible on the prone pony’s coat faded away. The pony being affected by this amazing healing seemed if anything bored by how long it took. He rose to his hooves, revealing himself to be a giant, nearly the height of Celestia when she was at her full power. His broad, rust-colored chest briefly filled her entire field of vision, and she craned her neck back to take in his jutting cheekbones and proud eyes under a silver mane.

“H...hello,” she said, crossing her forehooves in a sudden attack of awe. “I’m Hope. Hope Springs.”

“Indeed,” the massive stallion said with a raised brow. “And I am Soul Cleaver.”

Celestia blinked. The sheer viciousness of that name slammed into her, breaking the spell that his stunning appearance had briefly brought over her. Indeed, his cutie mark showed a cleaver passing between a shocked caricature of a pony and its equally cartoony ghost. She looked up at the stallion, waiting for him to make the next move.

Only he didn’t. He simply stood there, looking over at the other ponies behind her. Expressions flitted across his face: annoyance, impatience and finally resignation. Similar expressions appeared on the faces of the others. Swipe burst into laughter, for no visible reason, and then just as swiftly stopped, as if he had been chastised. While all this was happening, Celestia finally had a chance to see the eyes of these heroes. One of them had eyes the same impossible shade of brown as Rigged Bee. The other three had blue eyes, which was a normal pony eye color, only all three of them had very nearly the same shade of blue, which was extremely rare. As the silence wore on, Celestia realized that besides looking at each other, and glancing at her, they spent a good deal of time flicking their eyes to the same spot in the western sky. Celestia slowly turned her head left to look in that direction, but saw absolutely nothing of any significance: a midnight sky and a patch of the Milky Way between the constellations of Orion and Gemini, the center of what was known as the Winter Hexagon. No trees and no flying creatures appeared to be anywhere near the spot.

“Have you come bearing us a message?”

Celestia quickly turned her head back to face the formidable Soul Cleaver. “Uh no, Sir.”

“You weren’t sent by Stride Eater, or whoever’s running Redmoss?”

“Redfern,” the earth pony Torchlit corrected, pointing absently at a hoof-drawn map that was spread to one side of his sheepskin. His attention was on a stone cup filled with a foul-smelling green substance that was being held over the fire by a pair of tongs.

“What is that?” asked Celestia.

“Tincture of timberwolf,” Torchlit answered eagerly. “I’ve got enough for at least four ‘Animate Plants’ potions. I think you should answer Cleaver’s question, by way.”

“No,” answered Celestia. “The answer to my question, that is. It’s ‘No’.”

“Are you here to fight us?” Vaya asked.

“No!” Celestia exclaimed. “One would have to be a foal to even imagine doing such a thing.”

“Indeed,” Vaya replied. “But that hasn’t stopped some from trying. Is it possible that you are the message?”

“What does that even mean?” Soul Cleaver asked with narrowed eyes, his suspicion centered on the mare.

“No, no, no!” Celestia protested. “I wanted to learn more about you heroes.”

“I get it!” Swipe exclaimed, his eyes wide and a big grin plastered across his face. He looked like he was about to tell a joke. In fact, from his subsequent expressions, it was clear that he was telling a joke, even if it was one that only he thought was funny. He turned to face the same spot in the sky.

Indeed, the other stallions responded to Swipe by collectively rolling their eyes.

“Quiet!” ordered Soul Cleaver, nearly a minute after Swipe’s last utterance. “I know exactly how to keep Foaltus happy.” To Celestia he asked, “Do you wish to join our band?”

Celestia looked between the faces of these obviously mad ponies. “Yes,” she said with all of the confidence she could muster.

A moment later, she felt her saddlebag being removed by unicorn magic. Her six bits worth of coin was emptied out into Vaya Con Dios’ magical field.

“Hey!” she exclaimed.

“Consider it your entrance fee,” the unicorn said with a smirk. He opened a small chest that seemed to contain far more rings, potions, wands, rods and especially mountains of bits than should be able to fit in a container ten times that size, and added Celestia’s meager savings to the collection. After closing and locking the chest, he turned to her and rose on his hind hooves. “And here’s your first perk: a complete health plan, on the house.” He began to wave one free hoof in the air, compelling Celestia’s eyes to follow it. “By the power of Foaltus,” he intoned, his voice growing in volume with every word, “I command you...to...Heal!” With that last word, he forcefully tapped Celestia on the forehead with the waving hoof, causing her to fall back on her rear. As she rose, she realized that her wounds were now healed.

“Don’t complain about the form of the healing spell,” Vaya quickly told her. “House rules.”

“From now until you get your mark, you get a half share of everything we get,” Cleaver told her. “That’s both gold and experience.” This part was specifically addressed to the spot in the sky. He turned back to face her. “Now here is your next and most important rule: Do not speak to us unless we give you permission. We don’t want to hear your backstory, and you don’t need to hear ours.”

“Aw, but mine is a real heartbreaker!” Vaya moaned.

“Shut it, Vaya. Agree to do that, Commoner, and maybe you will get to the Inn in time. Now...?”

Celestia again looked from one pony to another, as the silence around her intensified. At this point she could only reach two possible conclusions: either these quiet moments were part of their evident madness, or else they were engaging in some form of telepathic conversation with each other. A conversation that a fifth, sky-borne entity was apparently a part of. Maybe even their god? The same being responsible for the common ponies of Equestria being held in a state of near constant terror, never to learn the sense of purpose that came from gaining a cutie mark?

Celestia glared at the Winter Hexagon with this realization, sending waves of pure hate skyward.

“Look,” Soul Cleaver said, dragging their argument back into the realm of the audible. “We’ll reach the cave mouth in three days’ time, and then—”

“And then what?” Torchlit asked. “In case you didn’t notice, my Staff of the Magi is dead. D.E.A.D., dead! That fireball against the timberwolves was its last charge. What chance do we have against Ivan without that?”

The others all got quiet.

“I saw a magic staff at Horn’s Reach,” said Swipe.

The others stared at him. “What magic staff?” asked Torchlit. “I don’t remember any magic staff in Horn’s Reach. Do you remember any magic staff in Horn’s Reach, Vaya?

“The hero’s impound,” Swipe said before the unicorn could reply, “behind the pillory. The one I had you cast ‘Detect Magic’ on? The one we had to leave behind when somepony accidentally set off the entire Unicorn Army?”

“Oh...right,” said Torchlit. “That magic staff. But I couldn’t tell for sure what kind of staff it was. It could have been a Staff of Withering.”

“Yeah, that’s not going to be much use against a dracolich,” commented Vaya.

“But it’s certainly worth a shot, right?” asked the pegasus.

“Yeah, if we had a plan,” Vaya commented idly, but then he caught the eager looks from Swipe and Soul Cleaver. “Oh, no! I thought we agreed that Stride Eater was bad news!”

Celestia was almost completely lost by this point.

“And he still is,” Cleaver said, sidling up to the unicorn. “That invasion scheme doesn’t stand a chance. But it will give us plenty of time to sneak in and take that staff.”

“And as much loot as we can carry?” asked Swipe.

Cleaver rolled his eyes. “Since when has any of our visits to Horn’s Reach not ended in all the loot we can carry?”

The quartet laughed merrily at that.

Celestia, on the other hoof, did not.

“So that’s the plan,” Soul Clever told them. “Tomorrow morning we join Stride Eater’s mad army of earth pony invasion, we break into the fort during the chaos of the following morning, and we’re facing off against ex-dragon Ivan for a king’s ransom in gold and magical artifacts by Canterday brunch! Now everypony get to sleep! I’ll take first watch.”

“Wake up!” the voice whispered in Celestia’s ear.

At first, the mare thought she was being roused for her turn at keeping watch through the night. Two facts undermined this assumption: she was currently surrounded by the branches of a bare tree, and her mouth was being covered by a wall of feathers.

“Hee-hee-hee!” the voice of Swipe continued in her ear. “It’s time for some fun!”

Celestia looked at Swipe. Perhaps, if he was exceptionally dim, he might take that look for confusion. In reality, she was working out precisely how she was going to incapacitate him. “What do you want?” she asked in a cold voice.

Swipe moved his wing so it was no longer covering Celestia’s mouth, although it was still keeping her from falling out of the tree he had apparently carried her to. “Hee-hee!” he tittered. “That! Exactly that! I only want you to talk, you lovely mare! It’s so funny!”

“Funny?” she asked.

“Ha-ha-ha-ha!” Swipe exclaimed, his eyes fixed on a spot below the western horizon.

Since she knew precisely how close her sun was to rising over the opposite horizon, Celestia was able to confirm that he was indeed still looking at the Winter Hexagon.

“Tell me where you come from,” he ordered her.

“I was born in the village of—” Celestia said, beginning to go over the backstory for Hope Springs that she had used on the inhabitants of Redfern.

“No, no, I’ve got something better!” Swipe exclaimed. “Tell me who your favorite hero is. Present company excluded, of course.”

“Of course,” Celestia said dryly. “Rigged Bee.”

“Oh, you are aiming high, aren’t you! The living legend herself! I suppose you’ll say that your second choice is Nestoria the Valiant, your third Felnor the Brave?”

“No, I don’t...” Celestia began, before interrupting herself. “Wait, did you say ‘living’? Is Rigged Bee still alive?”

“The shell of her is,” Swipe said with a shrug, his expression serious for the first time this encounter.

“Do you know where she lives?”

“Sure. She’s got herself a villa, about a day’s trot east of Horn’s Reach. Of course, if you want to meet ..., you’ve got six months ... time to reach the Inn.”

Near as Celestia could tell from his expression, the two pauses in the middle of Swipe’s speech had been caused by him slipping from speaking to her into thinking on the heroes’ private mental wavelength, without him even realizing it. Like he had been about to say something Celestia was not meant to know, and had been silenced by his god as a result.

“Oh!” Swipe exclaimed, taken with a sudden inspiration. “This one’s the clincher: are you...a Celestia worshiper?”

“What?!” Celestia exclaimed. “No, of course not! Celes...she’s no goddess!”

“Hee-hee-hee!” the pegasus giggled. “But you don’t think of the Sisters as the Forsakers though, do you?”

“For...forsakers?” Celestia asked, her eyes growing distant. “I don’t...I, I didn’t...I’m so sorry.”

Swipe hadn’t paid attention to that last answer, his focus instead being on the state of the eastern sky. “Alright, fun’s over,” he said to her with a frown. “My shift’s nearly done, and I’ve got to get you back to camp before anybody asks any funny questions. Now, you’re not going to tell any of the others about this right?” Celestia suddenly felt the point of a knife sticking under her ribs. “Or do I have to gut you right here and now?”

“I’ll keep quiet,” Celestia answered.

There was no fear in her voice. Only a steely resolve, and the patience to wait for her moment.

Celestia spent the next several hours pretending to sleep, weighing the pros and cons of staying with the group vs. leaving them to seek out the home of Rigged Bee.

As she was lying there, she heard two ponies converge on either side of her.

“So, how is the blank flank going to change the order of battle?” whispered Vaya Con Dios.

“She goes first,” Cleaver whispered back in a matter-of-fact tone. “That way she’ll absorb most of the damage from attacks. ... has made it clear that adding her to the campaign was a mistake.” (The subject of that last sentence had been swallowed up by yet another telepathic pause.) “This will get her killed the quickest.”

Celestia became very still.

“We could let her go,” Vaya suggested.

Soul Cleaver laughed out loud at this, before reigning back his volume in an attempt not to wake the pony whose fate they were contemplating. “You know what letting a commoner go does to a hero’s reputation? We’d never be able to set foot in the Inn again. No, she’s gotta die.”

“Why can’t we just kill her in her sleep?” Vaya asked, just as coldly as the other hero, like he was discussing a carp to feed to his pet cat.

Soul Cleaver muttered the mysterious phrase “alignment penalty” in response.

“But we can make her cannon fodder without getting in trouble? Cleaver, you would have made a good lawyer.”

Celestia’s mind was pretty much made up at that point.

The next day, the party broke camp and trotted northwards, in the direction they had been coming from. At noon, Celestia helped Soul Cleaver to put shackles on Swipe and Vaya Con Dios. Then they left the main road, and headed east. An hour later, they had reached the camp of the “Invincible Army of the Earth Pony Nation”, led by Generalissimo Stride Eater.

Celestia thought she had seen the heights of madness, first from the party of heroes met by firelight, and then in the crazed eyes of Swipe the pegasus a few hours later, but this was nothing next to Stride Eater.

“The hooves of the earth pony trample all that they encounter,” the generalissimo told them in a well-rehearsed speech, nevertheless made quite unnerving by way various parts of his body jerked uncontrollably as he gave it, like he was a puppet whose controller was having a heart attack in the middle of the performance. “The ground, unicorns and pegasi, even dragons, all are equally effortless. It is our fate to be the masters of the plains, and to convert everything to plain! We shall topple the mountains and dump their dust into the oceans, until all...is...plain!”

“Bravo!” shouted his army of not even a hundred soldiers. What they lacked in number they at least tried to make up for in discipline.

The discipline of a cult, thought Celestia to herself.

“Bravo!” exclaimed Soul Cleaver.

“Bravo,” echoed Torchlit, his heart clearly not in it.

Celestia decided to match her tone to Torchlit’s.

Soul Cleaver flicked a whip. “Applaud your superior’s speech, slaves!”

“Bravo!” cried Swipe and Vaya in unison.

“Yes! That is the proper state for all who do not worship the earth!” exclaimed Stride Eater.

“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but whips and chains excite me!” Swipe exclaimed, getting perhaps a little too into character.

The Invincible Army of the Grand Earth Pony Nation (additional adjective added by one-pony committee overnight) began their assault of the unicorn outpost Horn’s Reach at dawn. The great earth pony heroes Soul Cleaver and Torchlit led the assault. As a result of a fierce argument out of Stride Eater’s sight between Swipe and Soul Cleaver over the all-important topic of “battle order”, “Hope Springs” did not in fact get put in the role of “cannon fodder”, and instead was left behind with the heroes’ chest of holding, the “slaves”, and a couple of guards.

An hour into the battle, when it was clear that the unicorn forces were completely committed to holding off the assault, Swipe and Vaya revealed how weak their bindings actually were, and quickly took out the guards. Vaya climbed onto Swipe’s back. “Guard that chest with your life,” Swipe told her as they lifted into the sky and headed for the fortress walls, “and the rewards will be beyond your imagining!”

Celestia watched them go with cold, quiet eyes. She then climbed a nearby hill to watch the battle.

The two sides seemed pretty well matched. The earth ponies in their tan uniforms were well practiced in the ranged weapon skills necessary to disrupt the spells of the unicorns, who wore silver barding. But the earth ponies were rapidly running out of ammunition. Celestia couldn’t see Soul Cleaver or Torchlit directly, but she could guess their location by the occasional unicorn being knocked into the air. It was clear that no single unicorn could take either of them on, and with Stride Eater’s army behind them, the unicorn army could not spare enough ponies to take them out as a group.

The situation reminded Celestia of the Battle of Northern Winter, 120 years earlier. A pony fortress at the border of Equestria was being besieged by a seemingly-inexhaustible army of griffons, led by three large dragons. Luna, who had snuck into the town before the siege had completely circled the fortress, had attempted many means to stop the attackers, but all to no avail. She and her forces could stop the dragons, but not while they were being supported by the griffons, and she could stop the griffons, but not while being led by the dragons. So Luna had allowed the fort’s treasury to be taken by the dragons, one of whom buried it a couple hundred strides away from the city walls. The next time she led her army into battle, a force of pegasi flew high over the battle, to start digging up the buried treasure. The dragons abandoned their allies to defend their hoard, and in this way Luna was able to take each of them out individually.

Sure enough, Celestia heard the sounds of hoofbeats rapidly approaching from behind. A white-coated unicorn mare with a blue feathered helm galloped into the heroes’ camp, followed closely by a breathless unicorn colt, white coat with a green mane, bearing a clipboard in his magical field. Ten unicorn guards came behind the pair, their eyes constantly on the prowl for potential dangers. Stopping before the treasure chest, the youngest pony flipped through a few pages, stopping at a drawing of the same chest. After receiving an affirmative nod from the colt, the mare stepped up to the chest, and she loudly rapped its top two times with a hoof. A loud ghostly moaning broke out from the chest, and in the next moment, a cloud of vapor appeared and disbursed a few strides away, revealing all four heroes.

The unicorn commander, a captain if the meaning of purple-colored barding hadn’t changed since Luna was commander in chief, stepped back as the four of them converged on the chest. Without a word, she pointed sternly westward, away from the battle, and the ranks of her forces parted to form a corridor. The colt quickly moved into position to be beside her, a look of condemnation upon his features.

“This isn’t the end, Captain,” Soul Cleaver said coldly as he rested the chest on his broad back, before turning to Celestia. He glared for a moment at the colt, causing him to hide behind the commander. “Come along, Commoner,” the hero said.

Celestia gave the captain a look, a look that she hoped communicated a great deal. The captain nodded to herself, and then stepped forward to put herself between Celestia and the party of heroes. She looked back in their direction, her expression a silent challenge.

Soul Cleaver made one step towards Celestia. A dozen unicorn horns lit up as one.

“Fine!” Cleaver exclaimed as he turned away. “Take her! She was only driving our goddess crazy as it was! May her madness descend upon you next!”

The other heroes looked back at Celestia: Torchlit with regret, Vaya with longing, and Swipe with a look that Celestia would rather that she never see again.

And then they were gone, a trail of dust behind them.

Celestia held her head high. “I suppose I am your prisoner, then?” she asked.

The Captain looked her over, a cold expressionless look, with the merest hint of a smile.

“Y...yes, ma’am,” the colt answered for the Captain, in a post-pubescent voice. “You’ll be coming with us for processing.”

The Captain strode past him to the spot that Celestia had been using to watch the battle.

The colt pursed his lips. “...After Captain Sparkle’s business here is done, of course.”

They didn’t have long to wait: without their strike force, the Invincible Army proved easy to break.

Author's Note

This chapter was accompanied by the unrelated Guest Review of "Amadeus", which led to another blog post on that blog post's consequences...

Long story short, the author's been revealed as Princess Luna, and chapter 5 won't be coming out for awhile.

Chapter 5: Sworn by the Horn of a Unicorn

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 5: Sworn by the Horn of a Unicorn

Celestia walked through the gates into Horn’s Reach. The space between the open doors was easily wide enough to let in ten ponies marching abreast, with two ranks of pegasi above them. Around her the unicorn soldiers involved in the recent skirmish were also entering, at their own pace. Before her was the taciturn Captain Sparkle, with the diminutive colt riding in one of the Captain’s saddlebags and looking back at her.

“Why did that adventurer say that you were driving their god mad?”, the colt asked, head tilted to one side. “It hardly seems within the reach of a commoner, really, though I suppose that it could have been dramatized, ‎but why would they even claim that?” He still seemed to retain some of the same nervous energy that he had displayed upon the battlefield.

Celestia stopped to think for a moment. “I’m not really sure,” she said, finally. “I’m not exactly privy to the thoughts of a goddess, after all. As near as I can tell from those ponies’ reactions, She seemed to find fault with me the moment I met them.” She noticed that the Captain, although facing forward through this answer, most certainly had her ears swiveled to take in her words.

In truth, the question had been puzzling Celestia ever since Foaltus apparently ordered Her followers to stop talking to her. If She knew who Celestia really was, She almost certainly would have acted, considering how easily Celestia had been put down earlier. And yet if the goddess didn’t know who “Hope Springs” really was, why the odd reaction?

Seeing that the other ponies were starting to stare at her, Celestia began walking again. She noted that the town within the gates was populated almost entirely by unicorns. Not a single pegasus could be seen. As for earth ponies, there was a scrawny stallion a few blocks down, pulling a small covered cart and humming a merry tune. As she watched, the stallion left his cart on the side of the road to trot up to a door. He knocked a couple of times, and when the door was opened, presented a bouquet of flowers to a matronly unicorn, who quickly turned red with embarrassment. All this was accompanied by an absurd song and dance, the extra-loud chorus of which consisted of the words “he’s sorry, he’s sorry, he’s really, really sorry!” Nearby unicorns laughed cruelly at this display.

Celestia narrowed her eyes, looking around her more carefully. All of the doorknobs she could see were the round kind, the kind that could not be easily operated by pegasus or earth pony. And several of the businesses she passed had signs depicting silhouettes of earth and pegasus ponies inside “not” symbols.

“I hope you give that mudhoof what she deserves!” cried out a female unicorn who was leaning out of a second-story window and looking down at Celestia. “What all of those mudhooves deserve!”

Celestia sighed and put a blank expression on her face. Great, she thought to herself. They lose central leadership for two generations, and some of them are back to pre-Hearth’s Warming attitudes already.

“Miss? Miss Prisoner?”

Celestia looked over at the colt, who gestured at the Captain’s head.

“I said, did you speak to Her?” the unicorn mare asked.

Celestia was startled. She had half-expected Captain Sparkle to be a mute.

The colt took her pause in speaking as a sign of confusion. “Their goddess, I think, the captain means,” he said hesitantly, obviously trying not to invoke the wrath of the pony under him. He was relieved to see the Captain nod in acknowledgement.

“Gods do not pay attention to mortals,” the mare continued. “They only care for heroes, adventurers, and their own inscrutable aims. If you are not a hero, or an adventurer, then what scheme or plot have you become part of?”

“Well, I suppose that’s it, Captain, Ma’am,” Celestia said cautiously. “I approached them wishing to know more about them and their way of life. Perhaps She turned cold when She realized that I had no intention of becoming a hero myself. Of course, that assumes that Foaltus sees far more in me than I think She should.”

Very carefully phrased, that last sentence was. Celestia prided herself on a firm dedication to telling the truth whenever possible. Sometimes, she herself was unaware of how much manipulation she was achieving purely through proper application of said truth.

Celestia’s pride of phrasing was soon interrupted, as she felt yet another pair of eyes upon her, but these were coming from an impossible direction: beneath her hooves.

“Miss? Miss?” the voice of the colt called out to her, but it seemed to be from a million strides away.

Celestia froze as she realized that saying Foaltus’ name out loud had the unwanted side-effect of attracting Her attention. She felt that unblinking gaze penetrate all the way through her. It saw only the earth pony part of her, but still it remained upon her, as if confused.

The Captain stopped, turned, and examined the unmoving figure of Hope Springs.

A minute passed in silence, and then Celestia finally gasped in relief as she felt herself released from godly scrutiny. Having been the subject of similar magics far too often in her life, she was certain that her secret had not been discovered...this time.

To the waiting Captain Sparkle, she blushed and looked away. “Sorry,” she said. “Panic attack.” This was only a slight exaggeration of the truth.

The captain nodded to herself with a disparaging snort and resumed her walk into the outpost of Horn’s Reach. The colt looked back and forth between the two mares, confused and a bit worried.

After that, a deep silence descended upon the trio, as the earth pony was led into a denser part of town. Stone walls closed around them, leaving only enough room for ‎the three ponies and the increasing number of guards that lined the alleys. The unicorns who actually lived in this part of town, by contrast, were dressed in rags, sitting on street corners with bowls to receive alms.

The bowls were invariably pulled away whenever Celestia got too close. “Go back to your hole, mudhoof!” an anonymous voice cried out after she had passed. Celestia refused to acknowledge it.

Finally, they arrived at a squat one-room building, its single iron-banded door defended by one of the biggest unicorns Celestia had ever seen. Guard unicorns looked down at them from stations along the roof. After the Captain whispered a password into the ear of the doorpony, the portal was slowly opened, revealing the walls of the building to be nearly as wide as a pony. Celestia felt the weight of more than a dozen unicorn guards staring down at her, assessing her as a potential threat to whomever was within.

The guards stepped aside, revealing a staircase leading deep into the ground lined with magical torches. Without a word, a guard fell into line behind her as she and the Captain descended into the depths. Several minutes passed before the stairs opened up into one of the cleanest hallways Celestia had seen since waking up. A hidden castle, she suddenly realized, built into the dark under the poorest part of the city. No adventurer would think to raid here.

“Come on, you need to keep going,” the colt beckoned, when Celestia paused.

“Of...of course,” Celestia said with a nod, before continuing onward.

The click of hooves on stone floors echoed around them, while hallways and doors passed them by.

The young scribe seemed to calm down as Celestia watched, comforted by being in a safe area at last.

After a few more moments, the quartet arrived at a door, which Captain Sparkle opened but did not enter. Inside, a stallion in robes sat on the other side of a table.

It seemed clear that Celestia was expected to enter this room alone. After a quick glance at the unicorn guard behind her, she turned back to the two ponies who had led her here. “Thank you, Captain, ...” She realized that she never got the name of the colt, or his title (if he had one). “...Sir,” she said by way of substitution.

The two turned and left with the guard once Celestia was on her way in. She thought she saw the colt giving her a worried look for a moment. Before she could be sure of this, the door finished swinging shut by its own weight, leaving leave Celestia stuck in a small room with this stern-looking stallion.

Behind the stallion was hung a large painting portraying a tall white unicorn mare, old but still coldly beautiful. She had a long sharp horn, a gray mane with accents of its former golden color, and pale blue eyes. She was wearing the traditional crown of the ancient kingdom of the unicorns and draped over her back and neck was the purple robe of the monarchy, trimmed with white ermine and secured by a gem-studded peytral. As usual for a pony portrait, the subject was posed so that her cutie mark, a yellow and blue compass rose, was visible even as she looked at the viewer. Or, in this particular case, looked above the viewer, for the mare’s nose was clearly in the air. She wore an expression of faint contempt as she looked down upon the stallion, Celestia, and anypony else who she deigned to remain in the same room with her. A golden nameplate embedded in the rosewood frame identified this queen as “PLATINUM IX”, an unbroken continuation from the famous Princess Platinum’s grandmother.

By contrast, a smaller sketch filled in with watercolors was hung on the further end of a side wall, bounded by a simple oak frame. By its angle to her current position, it was hard for Celestia to make out clearly. Eventually she was able to work out that it depicted the very stallion sitting before Celestia, along with what must be his wife and three children. The eldest of the two daughters was none other than Captain Sparkle only a few years after her cute-ceañera, while the male foal suspended by the wife’s magic was probably the nameless colt from earlier, confirming that this work was executed nearly a decade ago. The wife was the only unicorn in the portrait besides the foal with even a hint of a smile upon her face. Her unusually tall stature, her white coat and blonde mane, and especially her cutie mark identified her as a relative of the Queen. The younger daughter, on another hoof [1], was the most serious of the quintet, having what was very close to a scowl upon her features. She had a dark blue coat with a white mane and lavender eyes. Her cutie mark was most unusual: an open flask seated on a stand over a small flame, with bits of metal suspended in the liquid within, and curved arrows looping out from each piece of metal to the outside air. Each arrow ended in the symbol of a little triangle resting on a cross, with smaller circles at each apex of the triangle. It looked like it came right out of a chemistry textbook.

Editor’s Note #1: The phrase “on another hoof”, while a cognate of the human phrase “on the other hand”, has the significant difference that there is expected to be as much as three alternatives available, instead of the single alternative implied by the latter phrase.

Celestia reflected upon the locations of the two portraits. The portrait of the queen was positioned to intimidate those this stallion dealt with on a daily basis, but he never had to look upon it himself. The family portrait, by contrast, was there purely for the stallion’s benefit, and not that of his visitors.

The earth pony’s contemplations were interrupted by the voice of the pony before her. “Please sit,” he said. “My name is Duke Comet, and from what I understand your name is Hope?” He was relaxed but firm, with a presence not unlike a father scolding his child for a minor transgression. Wearing robes over his nearly ceremonial armor, the dark grey coat was marked with scars along his forelegs, which held a small stack of papers.

“Your Grace,” Celestia said quickly with a bow of the appropriate depth expected for a duke, and with the proper degree of reverence in her voice. She wondered how this pony knew her name. Beside the adventurers, she had only introduced herself to Stride Eater; nopony else bothered to refer to her as anything other than “that pony with the heroes”, or “the prisoner”. That meant that this duke must have already interrogated the earth pony general, and done so quickly. It looked like the Duke was rather interested in knowing more about her.

Celestia decided to say nothing to confirm that Hope was her name (and thereby avoiding lying), but nothing in her expression suggested that she would answer to any other name. “How may I serve you?” she asked. Once again, this was the proper thing to say as a prisoner of war. It was expected that a gracious leader would not take advantage of such a prisoner’s lack of rights, but there had never been a law enforcing this preference. Her eyes remained on the wood of the table, because one in her position (as a captive or as a peasant) needed permission to look up upon her superior.

Celestia maintained these rituals when she became princess because of the effect that forgiveness and leniency had upon her enemies—and such gestures were meaningless when they were mandated. She was about to find out if the decision not to overturn those rules was a wise one to leave to her successors.

“I have no need for you to serve me, necessarily,” the duke said with an amused tone, “though in all likelihood your cooperation would be appreciated nonetheless.” The stallion looked down to his papers and moved one behind the another. “Where were you born?” he asked.

“The village of Oriano,” she said, “about twenty days walk to the southwest of here.” It was nearly the truth; to be exactly right, she would have had to say, “In a cave on the borders of Equestria that Discord later moved next to the Canterhorn and turned into a plain, upon which the village of Oriano was eventually founded,” but it was close enough.

The stallion nodded and shuffled his papers again before looking up at Celestia. “And your parents’ names? Just for the record.”

“Safflower and Oleander.” Now here she had to lie. One of her parents was far too well-known for her to use any of his aliases. (Although it did amuse her slightly that in the play, Clover the Clever was always played by a mare nowadays.) The ponies she named were the parents of her namesake. She had never met those two ponies and so, in naming them, it was her own forebears that she imagined. Perhaps that’s why her voice trembled with a hint of irritation when she said “Oleander.” Even as a fictional father, there was still a stain attached.

“I see. Were they adventurers, explorers, or heroes?” he asked quickly, as he leaned forward.

This was not part of her prepared backstory, but now that she was thinking about her parents, she was perfectly willing to find an excuse to express her feelings. “He had some...ambitions in that area,” she said, making it sound like a reluctant admission. “It did not go well, for either of them.” Especially not for her.

The Duke smiled apologetically before driving the point home. “So you thought you could do better? Or did this other group of so called ‘heroes’ prove your preconceptions as being worth their weight in gold?”

Celestia blinked in surprise at his perspicacity. “I was seeking knowledge,” she said. She thought over the scenario Duke Comet had presented, and what he might conclude based on her collusion with this particular band of adventurers. She was worried that he would think too badly of her. “I dare say that one data point does not make a set. I was...most unpleasantly surprised by how that turned out.”

“Knowledge, an intellectual then?” the duke concluded. “Or even a scholar if you had the chance? High ambitions for an earth pony. It’s a shame, you seem to have a good head on your shoulders.”

...too bad it doesn’t end in a point, Celestia mentally completed the sentence for him. She cursed herself for getting caught up in her thought experiment, and giving too much of herself away, all because she didn’t want the pony before her to be fooled in the wrong way. “If you say so, Your Grace,” she replied humbly.

He smiled at the silent mood shift, and leaned away from her, holding up her papers in his magic. “Officially, you are an adventurer without a license,” he told her, “who has surrendered herself to our judgment.”

Celestia quietly cursed the one enemy she could never vanquish: bureaucracy. She highly doubted that the adventurers themselves gave a speck [2] for whether they or the ordinary ponies they invited into their company had a piece of paper with them or not.

Editor’s Note #2: A speck is a unit of paper currency equal to one one-thousandth of a bit. It is one of the few forms of exchange that are worth precisely as much as the paper they are printed on.

“I suppose your...willingness could provide you with a certain amount of lenience,” the stallion said, putting on what Celestia judged to be a pretty good poker face, “though more important than even that is the possible knowledge you may have regarding those you recently traveled with, and their goals.”

They were now in the bargaining phase of the interrogation. The duke possessed the ability to grant Celestia her freedom, and Celestia possessed some facts that she knew the duke would appreciate knowing.

“No license!” Celestia exclaimed in mock dismay. “Oh dear. My ignorance is even vaster than I thought!” (Of course there was no way Celestia was going to let the permit issue drop without a snarky comment, regardless of the damage it might do to how the other pony perceived her.) “They were after some...object in your possession. A magic...staff, I believe?” She tossed this off like she wasn’t aware of its significance.

“Oh, just a magic staff?” He shrugged and looked away, as if running a mental tally. Celestia knew then that this would not be an easy bargain for her to make. “Such a shame we don’t know which one. If we did we might be able to seek out those who have revealed its location. By any chance was it in the armory?”

Celestia suspected that he knew precisely what staff she was talking about, and was just trying to get her to reveal her ignorance. “No...it wasn’t the armory,” she said, scratching her chin with one hoof. “The...pillory? It was next to the pillory. One of them cast a spell to find it the last time they were visiting the area.”

“I see, the pillory! Well, that is quite the find. Thank you for that.”

There was a pause while he wrote something down on his papers. He then looked up at her and smiled. “And what was your assignment, or job in all this? As much as the adventurers are prone to abduct or accept wandering ponies, they usually assign some task.”

Celestia smiled inwardly at his attempt to entrap her. It was nearly worthy of her own interrogations. “I was guarding their treasure,” she said simply.

The Duke waited for her to say more. When she did not, he raised an eyebrow. “That is all?” he asked. “Surely they would want you in combat, or doing something in town to cause a diversion. They simply had you watch a box?”

Celestia furrowed her brow, trying to follow his true goals behind this line of questioning. “Causing a diversion? Well, that would be an excellent plan in principle, but I believe the army of fanatical earth ponies was being used for that purpose. One more earth pony could hardly make a difference now, would it?”

“Ah, so you knew that the army that they had amassed was being used for a diversion,” he said with a smile, causing Celestia to inwardly groan. “That is curious; many adventurers that are new to all this would have assumed that they were a crucial attack force. So many ponies became victim to their fervor...”

This was a serious accusation. Celestia honestly didn’t think she could have done anything to reduce the number of pony casualties on either side during the siege, but she was upset to realize that she had never given the matter a moment’s thought at the time, so intent was she on escaping her captors, and ideally hurting them in the process. It was a lapse unworthy of a princess. But that realization had to be a guide to her future behavior. For now, she had to prove that she didn’t actively plan for the injuries of anypony. “They were remarkably candid to me about their motivations, Your Grace,” she said. “Almost as if they didn’t think me capable of doing anything about them. By and large, they were correct.”

“I see.” There was more scribbling on the papers as his silver sheen tapped the quill across the page. He then looked back to Celestia and took on a puzzled expression. “Why did you choose to leave them? Was it just their ruthlessness, or something more?”

“They had been weighed in the balances, and found wanting.” That was what she wanted to say. It was a quote she was perhaps too fond of. Instead, she said, “It was becoming increasingly clear that they were a danger to everypony around them, including, inevitably, myself. And, I wished to have no part with what they were planning next.” She was preparing to tell him about the tomb the adventurers planned to loot, which would almost certainly lead to the release of untold numbers of monsters upon the land. It was her trump card, the one she was certain would buy her her freedom.

Instead of asking the inevitable question, the Duke abruptly set the papers and quill aside and leaned in to examine her as clearly as possible. “Your vocabulary is quite impressive,” he observed. “Is there a university in your home town? What was it called again?”

Celestia couldn’t stop herself from gasping slightly. She had revealed her intelligence, to one who probably believed that only unicorns deserved to be educated. It was jail for her for sure, unless she found a way to play the stallion’s certain prejudice against him. “Oh dear,” she said, scraping one hoof on the floor. “The fact of the matter is...that I am very well read. My father was a very ambitious pony. I...hope you aren’t too upset with me. The ponies in my village feel that reading rots the brain, so I generally try not to let on about that sort of thing.” In this way, she hoped to play on his beliefs about what earth ponies did back in their mud-caked little villages.

“On the contrary,” he said with a smile, “I find that only employing and associating with the well-read is a sure plan to success.”

Celestia’s eyes went wide, as she realized how badly she had misjudged this pony.

“You’ve told me you have found these adventurers to be...untoward,” the duke continued, “but how certain are you in this aim? I am a politician first, you see, and a military man second. In all the political dealings I am forced into I find that adventurers never solve a problem. At best they apply a temporary solution that wastes time and resources. You are an intelligent pony, what would you do to change this world, to rid ourselves of these imbeciles with too many swords and not enough words?”

His speech had the sound of a political one, as though he was campaigning to Celestia, and if she were anything but a politician herself it would surely be compelling.

Celestia looked upon Duke Comet in awe, not because of the power of his words, but because he was permitted to speak those words aloud at all. After all, Foaltus had clearly demonstrated Her ability to manipulate minds. And yet here before her was a pony not under the influence of her enemies. She had to know more.

“I...I lack the information, Your Grace,” she said with an air of false nervousness, “although I agree with your goal, if it is even possible. I believe...I believe you would have to stop the source of their power. After all, they are but ordinary ponies before...before whatever it is that turns them into adventurers happens. That is something I still need to discover, before I can give you a fuller answer.”

Comet’s smile couldn’t be more confident, as he stood and turned to the wall behind him. His horn glowed and on that wall an image took shape, glowing a bit brighter than the heatless torch on the wall.

The image consisted of a set of arcane symbols, and it only took Celestia a moment to connect them with the names beneath them, and then to their meaning: Foaltus, Kelogto, Cutbelt, Calorus, and Howard. It was a pantheon.

With his hoof pointed at the symbols, he opened his mouth to speak.

“Don’t say their names!” she exclaimed, lunging forward to attempt to block his mouth with her hoof. Of course, his magic stopped her instantly.

“I was going to warn you of the same,” he said with a smile as he set her down, quite indulgently considering that she had attempted to assault him. “You recognize these as the names of the gods that give the adventurers, at least most of them, their power. It may be foolhardy, and I may be playing my cards upon the table too quick, but if there is one thing I know it is spies. You are not a spy, Hope Springs, yet you act like one. You know more than any earth pony I have met. Would you be my spy?”

He stood up and looked at the earth pony, tentative, his smile more cautious now.

He clearly knew that Hope Springs was more than she appeared to be, and yet he had stopped trying to tear her story apart. This measure of trust filled Celestia with hope. Her eyes rested on his for the first time in this conversation, silently judging him, letting her full personality and intelligence show. “There is a pony in your territories,” she told him, “a pony who once was a hero: Rigged Bee. I need to speak with her—she may be the key to all of this.”

“I can get you to her,” he said, using the tone of one speaking to an equal for the first time. “Under the guise of serving my younger daughter, who seems to refuse to stay in one place for any length of time, you can get nearly anywhere. She has been driving my colleagues mad with her own plans anyhow. Though I must have your allegiance if I am to place this power in your hooves, and if you are to be in the company of my own child. Will you ally yourself to this cause?”

At the word “allegiance”, Celestia’s hope had ebbed, as she feared that the duke would demand that she swear fealty to him. But a request that she merely ally herself, with no diminishment of her status, was far more than she had dreamed of achieving on entering this conversation. “My cause is that of every free pony in Equestria: earth, pegasus or unicorn,” she told him. “You ask for my allegiance, not my subservience. You shall have it.” She held out her hoof, not as a peasant, but as something at least as politically powerful as he was.

The Duke hesitated only for a moment while looking Celestia over, before he held out his own hoof.

“If treating an earth pony as I would a unicorn will help save this world,” he said solemnly, “I will do so.”

Chapter 6: The Genius and the Mudhoof

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 6: The Genius and the Mudhoof

Celestia carefully made her way back up to the surface, escorted by two identical white unicorns. Nopony said a word.

The whole time, Celestia had to fight to keep a grin off of her face, and to keep her head down. To these guards, and to most of the rest of this town, she was just Hope Springs the earth pony, and needed to show the proper degree of self-abnegation, else such a state might be imposed upon her by another. But inside, she was feeling the first true ray of hope since discovering exactly what she was up against in this new Equestria.

When the outer door was opened, the earth pony was bathed in the light of the midday sun reflected off of the snow that blanketed the streets. She looked about her for a moment, until she realized that her guards were holding up hooves to shield themselves from what was to them a blinding light, and belatedly brought up her own hoof to fake the same reaction.

The guards lowered their hooves after a moment given to adjust, and looked to Celestia with impatience. They had been instructed to take her to the manor of the Blueblood line, a simple summer home by a noble’s standards, but nonetheless a formidable structure where apparently the Duke’s daughter was stuck studying.

“I don’t see why the Duke insisted we escort the mud pony,” one of them grumbled to the other.

“I’m sure I could get there on my own if you gave me directions,” Celestia said demurely, her head raised to address the guards. Not seeing where she was going, she dropped her hoof right into a deep mud-filled pit in the road.

The guards laughed uproariously, having raised magical shields to deflect the splash of mud back onto Celestia’s coat.

“Nah, we better take her,” the other guard said. “She’d probably get lost in a matter of seconds.”

“Come along!” And with that, the pair of ponies launched into a quick march.

“Wait, I need a moment to clean my...oh, never mind.”

After leaving the slums, and traveling through the more militaristic districts, trees began to appear in small plots along the sides of the road. The sorts of ponies on the streets changed as well, from a scarce representation of the other two races, to none at all. Unicorns stopped on the street to stare at Celestia in confusion, sneer, and veer sharply away as though to avoid contamination.

The whole time, Celestia was carefully radiating an aura of submission, that she was here merely as a servant following instructions. The last thing she needed was for her mission to be derailed by an assault a few strides outside of the home of the Duke’s daughter.

The opulence escalated to a peak at their destination, a stone gate with its own gatehouse, guarded by the same sort of official guards as her escorts. The stones seemed to be inlaid with ice, until a closer examination revealed that there were glass chips in the stone, giving it a shimmering blue tint.

“We’ve come to deliver this one...” The guard pushed Celestia forward, though careful not to harm her. “...To Miss Midnight.”

The gate guard stepped forward and looked over the trio, before huffing and shaking his head. “Fine, yeah. I got it.”

The original escorts took a moment too long to leave before the gate guard stepped forward aggressively and stomped his hoof. “I’ve got it, get out of here, you’re crowding the street.”

Once the two were gone, his expression softened and he looked to Celestia, shaking his head. “Come on,” he muttered, “got a spare blanket you can use to clean up. No point in sending you to the wolves bleeding.” He opened the door into the gatehouse and held it open for her.

“Thank you,” she said softly, almost but not quite making eye contact. She walked in the direction indicated, her head low.

The guard house was small, but big enough for a table and two chairs, one of which the guard covered in a blanket. “Don’t ask why I care, I’m not supposed to. But it’s obvious that you’re out of your depth here. If you’ve been sent to see Midnight...” He laughed, shaking his head again. “Best of luck.”

Celestia jumped up onto the chair with the blanket, quickly cleaning herself. “It’s just ‘Midnight’, then?” she asked. “I don’t want to make the wrong impression by not using the proper title.”

“The filly’s got no title,” he said. “But she’ll do her best to make you think she does. No matter what you call her, I’m sure she’ll find a way to nitpick it.”

Celestia shrugged. “Alright. I think I can handle that.”

He paused with a clipboard and pen floating in front of him, eyebrow raised. “Maybe you aren’t out of your depth. Well, what’s your name?”

“Hope Springs.”

“Age and location of birth?”

Celestia performed the mental equivalent of an eye roll. Always with the questions! “Nineteen, and Oriano.”

“And, I’ll just put down that you are visiting Midnight...” He hesitated, looking over what he had just written. “Oriano... Where’s that? Not to pry, I just pride myself as a bit of a map collector,” he looked up to “Hope.”

“It’s southwest of here,” she said. “You could get there in a month if walking. Maybe a week in a carriage.”

“Ah, that’s quite a ways. Well, I hope Midnight is not too terribly rude to you.” The guard moved to the inner door and rang a bell, summoning another guard in a few moments. “He will take you to Midnight. Goodbye, Hope.”

“Goodbye, mister. And thanks.” The smile that Celestia gave the stallion was genuine.

#

Celestia’s first hint that Midnight was approaching was not by sight or sound, but by smell. Specifically, the smell of sulfur and brimstone.

She was therefore not entirely surprised when the door of the manor burst open with a plume of brilliant purple smoke. Celestia raised a hoof to cover her muzzle as the various other servants tending the grounds burst into fits of coughing. She wasn’t able to prevent her eyes from watering.

Emerging from the smoke was a figure in a white lab coat, her head held high. Celestia noted that the mare not only wore no goggles, but also appeared to have no adverse reaction to the noxious cloud.

Celestia put on a slight smile. Here was another pony who was trying to fight back the tide of ignorance that had overtaken her Equestria.

“Any progress?” she asked the scientist.

“Only the barest hint of it!”, the mare said, brushing a long white mane out of her lavender eyes. “I swear, if it weren’t for the poor quality of materials in this area, I wouldn’t have as many...” The deep purple unicorn stopped, and appraised Celestia carefully. “Who are you?”

“Hope Springs,” Celestia said with a curtsey. “A humble mare with an interest in that which has been hidden from the knowledge of ponies. I was sent here by the Duke.”

The mare quickly nodded. “Right, my father sent ahead that you would be...accompanying me? I do hope that you understand, I am quite capable of making this trip on my own, I don’t necessarily need you to come along. I’m more...doing a favor to my father, by insuring that he feels comfortable with my departure.”

“That’s perfectly understandable,” said Celestia with a guileless tone, stepping a bit closer. “I’m sure you know Rigged Bee’s life story in detail, including what happened at the cave of Kameneva. In which case I suppose I can carry any baggage you might need to bring with you.”

The mare stopped, looking over Celestia again as though she had grown a wing. “Well. I suppose I should introduce myself. I am Midnight Sparkle. I will be the head of this expedition, and I expect to be treated as the leader. Is that okay with you, Hope?”

Celestia accepted the setback with equanimity. “Yes, Ma’am.”

Midnight nodded, looking back towards her smoking lab, then back to Celestia, opening her mouth as though to ask a very important question, going so far as to raise a hoof to gesture, before stopping, and turning back, to walk into her lab. “What do you know of distillation, Hope?”

Celestia thought back to her first, and thus far only, student, Pericycle. Peri was supposed to become her generation’s answer to Star Swirl the Bearded, but it turned out that all she was really interested in was chemistry. Now what had she said about distillation…

“Temperature gradients,” she said. “Very tricky to control those.”

Again, Midnight stopped and looked at Hope, but this time she seemed more confused than upset. “Yes. Pressure...Pressure is useful as well. I was trying to distill a type of acid that is commonly used to etch metal. I want to make it more pure, to the degree where it would be possible to dissolve metal into the solution, and then apply it magically as a coating to a non-metallic item.” She watched Celestia, trying to see if the earth pony understood any of it.

Celestia blinked in surprise. Has this generation really forgotten that much? “So you’re preparing aqua regia?” she asked cautiously. That sounded like what she was doing. It would work, but that wasn’t the best way of doing it.

“How do you know so much?!” The unicorn blurted, wide eyed. “I was forced to search a vast array of books just to perform this basic experiment; where did you learn these things?!” she asked, seeming to have forgotten her racist tendencies for the moment.

“I, um...well…” she tried to find a way to phrase this that wouldn’t set the unicorn off. “Non-magical chemistry tends to fall within the purview of earth pony talents. Even a town as small as Oriano tended to have at least one chemist per generation. We preserved all manner of tidbits in this way. Of course,” she added quickly, “we are absolutely useless in magical chemistry, and so I’m sure you’ve proceeded much farther than the little that my breed is aware of.”

“Right...natural talents, I suppose...” Midnight nodded quickly, reassuring herself that it was all how it should be. “So...aqua regia. While I pack this equipment...what else do you know about non-magical chemistry? Specifically, its application to metals.”

Celestia knew that the following suggestion had about equal odds of being outright rejected, or making Midnight hate her for solving her hard-fought solution for her. “Have…” she began, shuffling one hoof on the floor and looking away. “Have you have considered experimenting with, um...with batteries?”

Midnight frowned while she slipped bottles into a specially designed case, made to hold them all safely. “Batteries...but, all I’ve seen those used for is audio manipulation, and taking the place of magic in magic based chemistry...” She put the case into a rolling cart, along with a few jars of oil and a lamp burner.

“Oh yes, of course, that’s precisely their primary function,” Celestia said, adjusting the reins of that cart in preparation for pulling it. “But the actual action of batteries, the way they work, is by taking apart and putting together metals.” She paused for a few seconds for this to sink in. “In solution. So, I just guessed that that would be useful.”

“I see...” Midnight stuck her tongue out ever so slightly as she thought, finishing her packing as she led the way out of the workshop and into the main hallway. “This would allow for the attraction between metals to be strong enough to bond them?” She asked, either fascination or disbelief in her voice.

“Why don’t you try it for yourself?” Celestia asked.

“I suppose I must.” Then, without warning, Midnight stopped at the door, looked towards the garden, and shouted “MUDDY PIE!”

“Yes, Mistress?” answered the same scrawny earth pony stallion Celestia had seen doing delivery duty earlier in the day. Celestia shook her head in befuddlement—she was sure she would have noticed this pony entering the room, but here he was on the opposite side of her from the door.

“Muddy, this is Hope. She will be going with us on our trip. Do you have my traveling supplies packed? She will be pulling my lab.” The unicorn seemed entirely unsurprised by this impossible behavior.

“All packed and ready to go, Mistress!” Muddy responded with enthusiasm. “So, is this the pony your sister captured from those adventurers? Moving rather fast for an earth pony, aren’t we?”

Celestia, having no way to respond to this accusation, said nothing.

“She is quite unique for an earth pony, Muddy. I will say that she has earned at least a chance to prove herself. Now, we will be leaving immediately; please meet us at the city gate.” Midnight then continued on her walk towards the gate of the compound, completely ignoring Muddy in what was likely her normal reaction to earth ponies.

Celestia followed, the portable lab pulled behind her.

The gate guard nodded toward the trio as they approached, and pulled open the wrought steel gate, allowing them to exit onto the main street.

Interestingly, Celestia noticed that the wealthy unicorns in the area gave Midnight Sparkle the same avoidance as they did “Hope Springs”.

“Hey, Muddy!” cried out one of the unicorns watering her lawn. “How’s business?”

“Oh, business is fine, Ma’am. Very fine.”

“You going out of town, Muddy?” another unicorn asked.

“Just for a bit, Sir. I’ll be back soon enough.”

“Will you bring me something?” asked a young unicorn colt. A colt that Celestia distinctly saw being ushered away when she was being escorted so that he wouldn’t have to see an earth pony.

“We’ll see, Master Kip. We’ll see.” And Muddy ruffled his hoof through the laughing foal’s mane as he was saying this.

Celestia was flabbergasted. The same ponies that despised her for existing all acted like this pony was their best friend. And then there was his name: Muddy Pie. Muddy Pie?

“‘Muddy?’” Celestia asked in a low voice.

“You can call me Mr. Pie,” he said with a snort.

They reached a gate. Unlike the western gate by which Celestia had entered Horn’s Reach, this one was much smaller, and came complete with a large and well-equipped guard station. The purpose of all the guards was to monitor the ponies, and especially the merchandise, that came and went. Celestia witnessed the collection of at least seven different excise taxes on goods ranging from papyrus to papayas. She also may have witnessed a bribe.

The three ponies waited in line to exit with varying degrees of patience. Celestia wanted to get out of this city that wanted so little to do with her, but was willing to stay here if necessary and learn anything she could. Muddy was the life of the party, and everypony was clearly sad to see him go. And as for Midnight…

“I WILL NOT PAY YOU TO TAKE MY LAB OUT OF TOWN!” The unicorn screamed, getting nose to nose with a gate guard, her mane flickering with white and blue flames. “It is not taxable as a non-tradable good! I am an arcanist, and registered as such, you will not so much as TOUCH my supplies!”

“My apologies! He’s new,” said the guard captain, pulling the guard who had stopped the trio aside. A clipboard was produced and discreetly shown to the new recruit, but not discreetly enough that Celestia couldn’t see that the list written upon it was topped by a drawing of Midnight and lots and lots of exclamation marks.

Midnight almost snarled, as the path was cleared for them, and she led her earth pony companions through the crowd and out of the gate. “Imbeciles, I swear...they give me trouble every time. I’ll have to write another letter to my father.”

Author's Note

The publication of this chapter was accompanied by a blog post apologizing for the delay. It has no significance whatsoever.

Chapter 7: The Waggle Dance

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 7: The Waggle Dance

“Peeping through the knothole
Of Grandpa’s wooden leg,
Who’ll wind the clock when I am gone?
Go get the axe
There’s a flea in Lizzie’s ear,
For a colt’s best friend is his mother!”

Muddy Pie was belting out the oddest little song like he was doing a command performance for the Princess.

Coincidentally, he was shouting right into the ear of the Princess, although he didn’t know it.

“Muddy, please I...Why would you need an axe to deal with a flea? If you must sing, I ask that your songs make sense.” The unicorn sighed, walking slowly down the road with a look of long suffering nobility to her.

“Sense? Scents? Cents?” Muddy asked himself in quick succession. “It’s rather a non-sensible mission altogether, if you ask me! You can’t topple a problem face on, after all. Leastwise most of the problems I face. A horn and a song is enough for me.”

Celestia gave the earth pony a very discerning look for that remark, and then took a peek at the map he was carrying. “I don’t think we’ll get to the manor before nightfall. Shall we be staying at an inn?” she asked.

“I’d certainly say so, I have no intention of sleeping on some blanket in the dirt,” Midnight said, her laugh almost derisive. “I’m sure they have something a step above that in Brightbrick.”

Celestia saw an opportunity to finally figure out how others saw Muddy Pie.

“Of course,” Hope said very simply. “Rooms for the unicorns, and the blanket for the earth ponies. How many rooms will I be getting for you?”

Midnight almost tripped at the unexpected tone in Hope’s voice, and looked back at her with a frown. Her pace slowed further. “No...You may have a room as well,” she said, trying her best to match Hope’s neutral inflection. “So three rooms. The coin is in the pack cart.”

So, pretty strong proof then that Midnight thought that Muddy Pie was a unicorn. Celestia didn’t detect any obvious unicorn magic on the earth pony. She could see more if she manifested her horn of course, but that would have serious consequences. Was it earth pony magic, perhaps? And was Celestia immune because she was an alicorn, or merely because she was an earth pony?

In the meantime, though, Hope needed to properly react to her employer’s generosity. “Oh,” she said softly, “thank you, Ma’am. I’ll pull the cart extra fast after a good night sleep, just you see.”

Compared to Redfern, Brightbrick was the very model of a planned community. Streets ran at right angles, and two of the intersections even had traffic cops. There was a post office and a library in separate buildings from the city hall. And helpful signs were located all over the place, pointing out where the major eateries and inns were located. It’s like the place is built for tourists, thought Celestia. Too bad that it’s so far away from the Trunk Road as to make the presence of casual visitors a near impossibility.

“All this for a town of a hundred and fifty unicorns located far from any of the main roads,” Muddy remarked smugly, as if reading Celestia’s mind. “Goes to show which breed knows what they’re doing, eh?”

“Inn. Rooms. Going now,” Celestia muttered before leaving the other two as fast as she decently could.

#

Dinner at the Vanishing Point Inn was served buffet style, which was a slight surprise to Celestia given how few ponies she had seen up and about before now.

“Are you here long?” she asked the green earth pony in front of her in line.

“Just finished delivering the hay shipment for Bee Villa,” the pony answered.

“Oh? Do they get hay often?”

“About once every six months. I’ve never seen the mistress, but there sure are a lot of servants running around. A few...too many servants, if you get my meaning.”

“I guess,” said Hope, not really following.

#

Hope walked over to the table where Midnight and Muddy were already eating. Midnight had only half of her attention on her food, as she was working through some equations on a parchment that must have been written on and expunged dozens of times in the recent past.

Hope took a few bites of her salad, to keep from looking too eager, before finally speaking. “What are you working on?” she asked.

“Resonant harmonies between the magical fields of a pony and their wellspring. Really it’s a pain because most of the research is done by theologians and...” Midnight slowed down and looked up to Hope, before looking back to her page. “Unicorn stuff. I don’t suppose you know as much about magical wellsprings as you do about alchemy?”

Celestia put on her “Celestia Smile”, the one that could be interpreted by the viewer as meaning anything whatsoever. “Well, I can’t be expected to have any direct experience under the circumstances,” she said. “However, I do experience a definite pull from here when I assist with the fall planting. Making it any bigger, well...I’ve heard that some of the earth ponies that work with animals as opposed to plants are able to do that. There’s a song or two...ooh, it’s been a long time since I’ve heard one of those.” In fact, Celestia wondered if the song she was thinking of was even intelligible in modern Equine anymore.

“Songs...” Midnight looked to Muddy, as though checking to see if he was disapproving of her conversation. “That could do it. I keep running into gods and goddesses as sources of our wellspring, but songs sung together might do it. Those gods, one of them in particular... F... Fillytus or something? Seems to be thought of as the source of cutie marks.”

Wow, thought Celestia. That one went way back. “Phyletus. Although I can understand the reason for the corruption of the name, since only fillies were allowed to sing it.” Phyletus had been the only god or goddess that Celestia was certain actually existed other than Discord...at least before this whole mess had begun. Celestia paused a bit to think. “Actually, since the purpose of those songs was energy transfer, and pegasi are supposed to do that for weather manipulation, it might be useful to ask one of them how they perform the same feat.”

“I may if I can pin one down long enough. But now all the clerics have told me that Foaltus provides that service, so the extensive research into Phyletus is all for nothing.” Midnight sighed and laid her head on the table, toying with her food.

Celestia barely had time to brace herself before once again feeling the questing eye of the goddess upon them. That’s got to be really annoying for Her, she thought idly to herself. There Foaltus is, busy doing Her hooves or something, when bam somebody says Her name out loud, and She’s got to check it out again. She laughed a bit at that.

“It’s not that funny,” Midnight said, showing no signs that she felt herself being examined by the goddess she had just named. “I’ve lost a lot of progress in this mess. Even the cutie mark theory doesn’t make sense without Phyletus, and there’s a good chance that the clerics are lying to me about the modern gods having made it all.”

“Foaltus Flakes are the best, look delicious on your vest,” sang Muddy. “Serve them to unwanted guests, stuff the mattress with the rest!”

And with that, the goddess was gone.

Hope raised one incredulous eyebrow. Gods are allergic to doggerel, she thought. That’s good to know.

One relatively restful sleep later, the three travelers took the road up to Bee Villa. Surprisingly, it was a less well-maintained road than the one leading up to the Canterhorn shrine. From the depth of the ruts in the road, it appeared that it was used far more for hauling supplies up than for actual hoof traffic.

The villa itself was a small ranch house that smelled of whitewash. Interestingly to Celestia, its architectural style was far more akin to cloudwork than to the stucco it was actually constructed out of.

Midnight Sparkle strode up to the main door, and used her magic to strike the over-sized door knocker.

It took nearly fifteen minutes of increasingly inventive attacks upon the door before anypony bothered to answer it. These attacks had drawn the attention of a small pink pegasus, who watched them from her perch atop an equally small cloud.

“Yes?” asked the thoroughly bored red pegasus majordomo who had finally opened the door.

“I, Midnight the Arcane, have come a great distance to speak with Rigged Bee. I object to the delay in answering my call, but it is acceptable if I will be allowed entrance.”

“Milady does not see visitors on days ending with a ‘Y’,” the red pegasus answered drolly. “Nah, just kidding,” he said a moment later, dropping his upper-class accent. “Come on in. I’ll make up some tea and cookies.”

“Ooh, do you have any of those shortbread ones with the icing?” asked Muddy, who followed the servant right back into the kitchen. “I just love those!”

Midnight and Hope silently made their way into the cavernous front room of the house, and found places to sit. The disguised alicorn’s eyes were drawn to a series of portraits that lined the upper third of the room. The presence of the various Bees was of course to be expected, but the others appeared to be whichever famous individuals showed up to have their portrait painted with Rigged Bee, in this way acting as documentation of her gradual aging over the decades. A pair of names for these guests seemed to jog something in Celestia’s memory: Nestoria the Valiant, and Felnor the Brave. The former was a delicate unicorn from fifty years ago, and the latter a barbarian earth pony from a decade ago. However, despite living a generation apart and having completely different physiognomies, there was something indefinably linked between those two...and the official portrait of Rigged Bee herself. Something that was absent from every other portrait of the retired heroine.

“Are you going to eat that? No? Oh, too late—more for me!”

Celestia looked down from the portraits, to see that a tea service for four had been set, and Midnight and Muddy had already begun eating. “Oh, uh, sorry,” she said, and picked up one of the picked over cookies remaining to dunk in her cup of lukewarm tea.

“Is the Bee available?” Midnight asked, sipping her own tea while ignoring the cookies.

“Available. Not up to talking, give me a few moments.” The light blue unicorn in question walked right past the group, through the room, and out the door on the other side, closing it behind her.

Midnight just sat there, mouth open. “Uh... I...”

It took another minute or so for Rigged Bee to return, at which point she sat down on a chair far from the gathered travelers, as though afraid to catch a cold from them. “So?”

Midnight worked her jaw, trying to gather her scattered thoughts. “I... My name...”

“This one’s broken.” The declaration from Rigged was almost disappointed, as she turned to Muddy. “So?”

Celestia could see that the ex-adventurer wore nothing. No adornments, no medals, no cloak, no weapons. It was almost eerie how ordinary the legendary Bee appeared. As if she wasn’t the one they had traveled to see.

“What’s the loudest monster you ever had to face?” Muddy asked, his mouth only partly empty of cookie crumbs.

“Good question. According to the codex some pegasus brought me...” She reached over to a shelf with her magic and dragged a book off it. “Probably the Terrorshriek gorge-beast. Can’t say I remember it myself...could explain my bad hearing though. Your turn, youngun.” She turned to look at Hope.

“I was wondering,” Hope began, and then she was struck dumb. The pony before her was the same unicorn healer she had seen in her true form on the Canterhorn seventy-five years ago: same coat, same mane, same cutie mark, all somewhat faded as would be expected due to the rigors of age, plus several healed-over scars as might be expected from an adventurous life. But there was one change that was inexplicable: the adventurer she remembered so vividly had dull brown eyes, while the pony before her had bright orange eyes. Perfectly normal pony-orange eyes.

Despite this shock, she was Celestia, and she had far too much invested in this meeting to screw it up with a social faux pas. She quickly closed her gaping jaw, and continued where she left off. “I was wondering what you can tell me about the Inn of the Prancing Pony.”

Rigged sighed and looked away. “Eager to find your own glory? I can’t say I recommend it. Oh sure, I got all this...” She waved a hoof to the house around them. “Very nice. Plush chairs, good food...an excuse to use money from the unicorn royal treasury to give the good life to my mostly pegasus family. But you lose more than you get when you go to the Inn of the Prancing Pony, youngun. You always lose more...” Her gaze became distant if only for a second before she closed the codex and slid it back into its spot in the shelf. “The Inn is just a gathering place. A place where all can come and go. Earth pony, Pegasus, Unicorn, Zebra, Griffin...God.”

Celestia’s spine turned to ice.

“You guard yourself in that place,” the old unicorn whispered. “It’s an...adventure.”

“You…” Hope began to say, but then stopped. This could be a very painful line of inquiry. No, make that definitely painful.

“Your family send you off?” Muddy asked lightly, thereby stumbling into the very spellfield that Celestia was trying to figure out how to safely navigate.

“If only I were that lucky,” she huffed. “I was sent off by ill fortune and desperation, more like. There were only five of us after those dragons were finished with my village.”

Celestia winced in sympathy, not only for the victims, but for the insane aggressors as well.

Rigged leaned forward. “Going to the Inn’s gotta be like a funeral march for most of us, you know? Knowing that you’re leaving everything behind...”

“How do you win at the Inn?” Muddy asked, cackling.

Rigged raised an eyebrow and sat back, looking at the unicorn imitation in confusion. “It’s a vicious place,” she said finally. “Just like every other place that adventurers frequent—it likes its meals tender, it rejoices in the most beaten and bloodied fodder. Over-dramatic, sobbing stories of broken homes and orphans. I’ve seen more adventurers who lost families than clouds in the sky. So. Make sure you’re a bleeding wreck and that place’ll gobble you up. So, what about you three? Off to throw yourself down its gullet as well?”

Midnight rushed to answer. “A research expedition. I have many questions, about adventurers, about the powers they use...”

She was stopped by a raised hoof, and the unicorn settled uneasily. “Can’t say that I’ll be any help on that. Can’t remember my adventuring days, don’t think I want to.”

Hope slumped. This was her best hope of finding some kind of weakness, some way to exploit…

But that was the mistake, wasn’t it? The same mistake made again and again by Equestria’s enemies, of seeing things as a straight contest of strength, as a game with a winner and a loser. Perhaps there was another way to approach this...

“What was she like?” Hope asked simply. She looked up at the portraits, the portraits with the identical brown eyes, just to be sure. Rigged Bee, Nestoria the Valliant, Felnor the Brave. That was the list that Swipe had given to her, as if saying one name automatically summoned the other two by association. As if they were in a sense one and the same pony. As for the pronoun: yes, it did look like there was a female behind those eyes, although Celestia could very well be wrong, and gods might not in fact have a gender, but hey, 50/50 chances and all that.

Rigged followed the earth pony’s gaze up and quickly looked away, and back to Hope. “She was me. She...Every once in a while they would call her Ellen. Ellen...” Her gaze went distant, something shaken in her expression of weary resignation. “She was kind. Smarter than me. If any of them can be trusted, it’s her. They call it the adventurer’s spirit, you know. The thing that takes us up and wields us like a weapon. But she just...helped me survive.”

“Ellen? That’s an odd name,” Midnight scoffed. Rigged only ignored her.

Rigged! Rigged! Ellen! Let’s get out of here, Rigged!

Yes. Yes, Ellen was her name, Celestia remembered now, how the unicorn had tried offering herself up in a twisted attempt to help Celestia. Now she had a name, something to attach everything that belonged to the adventurer instead of to the pony.

“It wouldn’t be that bad of a griffon name,” Hope mused aloud.

“Silly names for silly creatures, griffons,” said Muddy in a sing-song voice.

“No, generalized names for an individualized race,” said Celestia, drawing on her extensive experience with Equestria’s neighbors to the northeast. “At their worst, their lack of a cutie mark drives them into a perpetual cutie frenzy, trying anything and everything to attain some purpose in life.”

“Don’t change the subject,” Midnight said crossly. “We are talking about the adventuring spirit of a pony...”

Rigged shook her head, laughing a bit. “They’re all named like griffins, no matter the race. Ellen, Gary, Susan, Luke...and Luke...along with every other one I’ve heard of. ‘Course most adventuring types get killed before they retire. Or their minds are fried too deep to remember the names. One of my servants has a theory. Brilliant little pegasus. Says that I got saved by trying to resurrect a dead goddess.” Her gaze lingered on Hope for just a moment as she paused. Then she looked back to the floor. “Got the attention and salvation of...my own goddess. Not that she’s spent much attention on me since.”

“You mean Foal—”

Midnight was cut off by a lightning fast glare from Rigged. “This isn’t a place of worship. No reason to say their names, filly.”

“No reason to be so hostile...forget it. I just wanted to ask you...”

Rigged stood, and turned away. “I’m done with questions. There’s nothing more that I can or will speak on. I do hope your travels are uneventful.”

With that, the legendary adventurer left the room. Midnight standing in front of her chair spluttering, and Muddy standing safely out of Midnight’s sight and rolling his eyes, like this sort of thing happened to her all the time.

“Looks like it’s back to the inn,” said Muddy. “I’ll collect the cart.” He dashed out of the room very quickly.

“What’s his hurry?” asked Hope.

“CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT IGNORANT, IMBECILIC, HORRID MARE?!” Midnight screamed, clearly hoping to project through the whole house. “I come here, in pursuit of science! Science! And all I receive are platitudes and third bit poetry about an inn eating meat?!” The unicorn seethed, stomping loudly towards the door. “It’s criminal! Criminal!”

Hope followed more slowly, leaving some space just in case the unicorn felt the need to blast something.

She did. Namely a fairly ordinary vase that was “OBSTRUCTIVE IN THE PURSUIT OF SCIENCE!”

As they approached the great door, Hope noticed a distinct lack of servants. On the one hoof, given Midnight’s current mood, this was more than prudent. On the other, she didn’t think that most servants were given the latitude of prudence when it came to the courtesy of letting your guests out. With a frown, she stepped in front of Midnight to open the door herself.

It was for this reason that she was unable to see the reason why the unicorn had suddenly froze in place. Then she stepped around the door to see the couple dozen royal guards all pointing their horns at the duo.

Celestia couldn’t be sure, but it was a fairly good bet that the smirking earth pony standing behind the army was none other than Muddy Pie.

Midnight’s expression went from rage to cool fury in a breath, and she began to step forward.

“Hardly appropriate use of force for breaking a vase. Hardly the proper way to treat an old family friend, either,” she said conversationally. Though Celestia could see her hooves trembling ever so slightly.

Stepping through the crowd with unshakeable confidence was a tall white unicorn with a blonde billowing mane—probably the result of a “Wind Machine” spell.

Blueblood, thought Celestia sourly. Certain things never changed, regardless of the generation.

“Dragonhandling of a national hero,” he said airily, “which is pretty high up there on the justification-of-torture scale. Good day, Niece, random earth pony. Take them away.”

“I didn’t so much as touch her,” Midnight protested, “I didn’t even cast a spell on her. Because I respect her. Now your face on the other hoof...”

That’s when things got a little crazy.

Author's Note

Sorry for taking so long--the delay on this one was entirely my fault. Or you can blame it on August, if you're in the habit of equinomorphizing months of the year.

This chapter was accompanied by Luna's exhaustively long three part review of the final serial of the Classic Doctor Who series, Survival.

Chapter 8: The High Court's Sentence

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 8: The High Court’s Sentence

Celestia awoke in chains.

“Luna, I’m not in the mood for playing Bandit today,” she mumbled as she slowly came to her senses. Luckily for her, her early-morning mumbles are always completely unintelligible.

Celestia remembered she was supposed to be Hope Springs...and some but not all of the details of the prior night’s scuffle with Prince Blueblood’s royal guards. She looked down, to see that she was wearing a set of off-white pajamas that had had black stripes crudely painted across it, making her look like the geometric opposite of a zebra. She lifted her head, to see Midnight similarly attired...and chained.

“Midnight, why are we—?”

Midnight cut her off with a raised (and shackled) hoof. “My uncle’s idea of a joke. His sense of humor is completely broken.”

“Ah,” said Hope. “Will I be required to laugh?”

“Oh, he’s going to have to try a lot harder before he gets a victory that significant out of us.”

Hope nodded. “Yes, Ma’am.”

“Let me do the talking.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

#

Several minutes passed.

“It appears that his timing is also broken,” Midnight said sullenly.

“Yes, Ma—”

“All rise for His Highness, Prince Blueblood!”

Midnight remained sitting, examining her hoof as though looking for any chips in its surface.

The tall white stallion from last night strode into the tent. “Of course, you can’t rise,” he remarked in an airy tone, “because I made your chains too short for...you didn’t even try to get up, did you?”

The two mares’ responses could be taken as characteristic for their entire approaches to life: Midnight looked at him like her gaze could melt lead, while Celestia looked at him like the joke had completely gone over her tiny little mind.

“So,” the Prince asked eagerly, “shall we begin the interrogation now, or shall we skip straight to the torture?!”

One of the guards stepped discretely up to the Prince, and whispered into his ear.

“Wait!” he exclaimed in response. “Strike that, reverse it. Yes, much better.”

Midnight carefully and slowly rolled onto her side, put her forelegs up and stretched the chains taut so that she looked entirely inappropriate, before speaking.

“Torture?” she purred. “Oh like living in your home as you drool over me? Like pretending your wife does you any good? You’re a sad stallion, Blueblood, trying to intimidate a filly.” She rolled back to her stomach as she said this, flipping her mane back to lay flat.

Hope’s jaw dropped, until Midnight flipped her mood as easily as an alligator that has latched onto its prey.

“You don’t scare me any more than you did as a child, you myceliac traitor to decency itself!”

“I...what? What?!” exclaimed a flabbergasted prince. “I’ll have you know I am the dictionary definition of decency! And I paid a pretty bit to get my picture put next to that definition, I’ll have you know! Don’t make me break open my complimentary copy to look up that vocabulary word of yours. Also, my Lumpy Bumkins is strictly off-limits.”

Celestia looked quickly between the two ponies on each side of her as Midnight built up to yet another explosive outburst. Despite the raging emotions, there was a certain playfulness in their expressions, like a pair of brothers who regularly fought their way into the hospital, but always left it laughing into each other’s arms.

“Off li...OFF LIMITS?!” Midnight predictably shrieked, straining at her chains as she tried to lunge for his throat. “I can’t insult your very nearly literal bovine of a wife, but you were just speaking of torturing us?!”

Blueblood shook his head in pity. “Really, I think whichever etiquette teacher your father paid for did a most inadequate job. Allow me to demonstrate: bring in the torture devices!”

A litany of servants arrived, carrying between them...a buffet table.

Celestia could see Midnight’s eyes twitching from anger or possibly an aneurysm. “A joke. You lock us in shackles and...I’ll have you know that I’ve been severely traumatized by all this, Uncle. You’ve left me broken-hearted and bereft of trust!”

“Really?” Prince Blueblood asked, his eyes wide, his tone dead serious. “You really mean to say that this beats out what the dragons did to me when I was five?” He asked this so fast that there was no room for response. And then he was back to his over-the-top self. “Now this, on the other hoof, this is the most exquisite of tortures! I am going to eat a three course breakfast, right in front of you. And only let you eat the leftovers!”

There was a moment of silence as both mares contemplated how best to respond to this “dire threat”.

“Oh how will I cope?” Midnight asked finally, her hoof raised dramatically just under her horn. A second later, that same horn was used to snatch a scone from the buffet table and quickly stuff it into her mouth. “W’fout the emfsquisit first taste?” She grinned as she swallowed.

“How dare you!” Blueblood cried, proving yet again that all Bluebloods sound really pathetic when they yell. “Guard!”

As his direction, a guard strode up behind the two mares. Blueblood used his magic to pick up another scone, which he shoved into Hope’s confused mouth. The guard then struck her in the back of the head to make her spit it out.

“Torture!” the Prince crowed.

Midnight sighed at her extremely minor defeat under the circumstances. “Fine, fine,” she said. “Don’t abuse the staff, Uncle. I was just feeling peckish. So what are you after? I haven’t found anything that any ordinary pony...or even earth pony, couldn’t have found out.”

Celestia smiled to herself at the circumlocution. It was worthy of some of her own deceptions in years past.

“Hold on, hold on! I’m still eating!” the Prince sulked. “Torture now, interrogation later!”

#

Eleven minutes passed, during which Celestia learned ways to use your servants to help you eat that she honestly never wanted to learn in her entire life. She was also hit twice more for Midnight’s “peckish” thefts of an egg and a cream tart.

The servants were then dismissed. All of the crusts and an overly hard soft-boiled egg were put in a silver bucket, which was presented to Hope by Blueblood.

“Of course,” Blueblood explained to Midnight in a superior tone, “now that I have ‘bucketed’ the food, there’s no way that you as a noble can…” (cue levitated food) “...oh, that’s just cheating!”

“It’s only cheating if you are punished for it, Uncle. I believe you taught me that,” Midnight chuckled while floating up a fluffy crust for Hope to have while she ate her own egg.

“You were only supposed to use that tactic against our cousins,” Blueblood mumbled under his breath. “Take it away!” he ordered. “Everything but the bucket. And bring my scribe!”

The pink pegasus Celestia had seen watching them from the cloud yesterday walked in. She looked a bit on the small side, and she had a dark blue blanket draped across her wings. Her mane and tail were toned light blue and pale red in alternating stripes. Without a word, she sat down, pulled out a small bag from under her left wing, and from those produced a pad of paper, a feather quill, and jar of ink. She appeared quite dexterous at manipulating objects with her feathers.

Blueblood sighed. “Any statements for the record before we begin?”

Celestia glanced over at the pad of paper that the pegasus was poised to begin writing on. Across the top, she noticed, were the words “DISREGARD THIS PAGE”.

“Of course, Uncle!” Midnight exclaimed in a far-too-cheery voice. “I’d love to give you everything you ask for! Such as a stick to ram up your...”

“...P Y G I A L,” Hope helpfully spelled out a few seconds later. “Gland.”

“Yes, I know. But he doesn’t even have one of those!” the pegasus complained.

“I believe that was the point,” Hope noted.

“I was going to use the vernacular, but I thought it would be more fun for him to have to ask somepony about his rectal anatomy,” Midnight said with a chuckle, offering Hope up another crust.

“Actually,” the pink pegasus corrected, “the gland is a little higher than that, in the vicinity of the—”

“Are we are quite finished?” Blueblood interrupted primly. He didn’t wait for an answer. “Firebelle…”

The pegasus dutifully flipped the page on her notepad.

“Our relationship with the group of adventurers represented by the Inn of the Prancing Pony in Hoofington has suffered a calamitous setback of late,” the Prince explained, “caused by the actions of a certain fort commander.” He gave a disapproving glare at Midnight Sparkle as he said this, which was answered with a raspberry. He continued on as if nothing had happened. “As a result, the Inn has refused to accept any unicorns who hold allegiance to the Crown.”

“And that’s my problem, how?” Midnight asked. “I have no interest in the Inn. I went to meet Bee for scientific pursuits and she didn’t even answer a single one of my many questions! Such as—”

“You know,” Blueblood said loudly, interrupting her, “I’ve heard some very good things about your research. Why, I even heard from a little narwhal that you might be on the verge of a breakthrough, and just need the right nudge.” He frowned, and he stuck his face in Midnight’s, daring her to respond. “But I don’t like your face,” he snarled, “so therefore I’m banishing you, and your little mud pal, from my sight!” With a satisfied smirk, he made his way to the entrance of the tent. “I happen to be very far sighted,” he said over his shoulder at them, “so I’m having you shipped to the frigid north—tomorrow, when the transport arrives.” He smiled in triumph as Midnight was struck dumb. “Until then I will be in my tent, indulging in an all-day salt sampling session. Firebelle?”

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“I’m entrusting you with the keys. And I’m confident that my suddenly placed trust in you will not be betrayed!”

“No...not the north!” Midnight exclaimed. She tried to lunch forward to embrace Prince Blueblood’s fetlocks, but ended up spread-eagled on the ground before him. “Uncle,” she begged, “I would do anything to not go to the north! I must continue my science!” But even under these desperate circumstances, she was able to regain her dignity. “I mean...” she began her plea bargaining, “unless I was to be bribed. If you gave me say...a thousand bits? Not to keep, just to hold onto for comfort until you make me leave for that dreaded place? I’d be more willing to go through with all this.”

Hope looked on incredulously. Is there any limit to the venality of the nobility? she asked herself.

“Hm…” Blueblood pondered the criminal act he was being baldly petitioned to commit. “Treasurer!” he bellowed.

A tall leggy blond unicorn showed up, a simply enormous bag of bits around her neck.

“Give me a thousand bits.”

The treasurer reached into the large bag to remove a smaller bag with a large “B 1,000” written across it.

Prince Blueblood calmly took the bag...and gave it to Firebelle.

“For me?!” the pegasus asked with sparkling eyes.

Midnight’s jaw dropped. “M...my money!” she whined.

Blueblood turned to her in triumph. “More torture!” he cried out gleefully. Then he and the treasurer left, arm in arm.

“Wait!” Midnight shouted after them. “I know another way you could torture me! It involves a fully-equipped laboratory and a staff of trained...”

Nopony rose to the bait.

“And what are you laughing at?” Midnight demanded of Hope.

“Oh, nothing, nothing.”

Midnight let out a long sigh. “Fine, okay,” she said, before coming up with her next scheme. “So this should be fairly straightforward,” she explained. “Firebelle, do you hate Blueblood as much as most of his employees do?” As she said this, she sat back and tried to look like she was relaxing.

The pegasus looked up from the inexplicable suitcase that she had just finished packing. “What was that? I couldn’t hear you over the sound of me attaining sweet, sweet freedom!” she cried.

“Excellent,” Midnight purred. “Mind taking us with you?” She punctuated this request by raising one shackled hoof into the air. “I can help you get wherever you need to go.”

Firebelle narrowed her eyes, and cautiously walked up to the pair. “Can that go ‘pew pew’?” she asked, pointing at Midnight’s horn.

“It certain—”

“And can those go ‘bam pow!’? she asked, pointing at Hope’s rear legs.

“Um...yes?” Hope replied.

“Great!” she exclaimed, using her key to free them. “You two can be my minions! We’re going to have so much fun together!”

The unicorn drooped, but kept her scowl from showing through. “Minion...Okay, fine, yeah.” She kicked the open shackles free from her hooves and looked around. “You know a way out?”

“Sure! You jump straight up, then you land on a cloud and...oh, wait…”

“Hey!” came the voice of Muddy Pie from outside. “The boss is giving out free margarita slurries to everypony!” This was followed by a miniature stampede. A few seconds later, the camp suddenly sounded a whole lot emptier.

Firebelle carefully stuck her head out the tent flap and looked around. “Huh,” she said finally. “It’s almost like he’s...nah, that’s impossible. Let’s do this!”

Author's Note

The blame for the title of this chapter can be laid entirely at the feet of McPoodle. I estimate that less than five out of every hundred readers "got" the title immediately, and even as they are reading this note after finishing the chapter, at least twenty out of those hundred readers still didn't get it or, like me, got it but didn't think it was funny.

However, it is his account that I am using for this, so I suppose I should give him some slack. So, to stop him from sniggering like a cartoon hyena, I'll just post...this, and say no more:

Chapter 9: Poor Wand'ring Ones

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 9: Poor Wand’ring Ones

The trio of ponies sped away from the royal camp for nearly an hour before finally stopping to catch their breaths.

“So... About this minion thing...” Midnight panted between gasps for air.

Firebelle wasn’t the slightest bit winded, although Celestia thought it odd that she had hoofed it the entire way instead of flying. “Oh, it’s just that pegasi have a noted record for leadership. And, well...I’m a Bee. On my father’s distaff cousin’s side.”

“A Bee, huh?” asked the unicorn. “Well. Normally I’d object to being led rather than being the leader but in the world of adventurers pedigree matters for something. I myself am Midnight Sparkle. This is my traveling companion Hope Springs.”

The pegasus walked over to shake Hope’s hoof. “Glad you’re with us. So, are you leaning towards becoming a fighter, or a healer? I’ve heard that the latest trend in adventuring is for earth ponies to do basically everything that used to be done by unicorns, just to work past their tragic pasts.”

“Uh…” Hope stalled. “Can’t I just pull the cart?”

“Well, I suppose you could,” Firebelle mused. “I have heard of adventurers with retainers...and they are usually the ones that end up writing the memoirs afterwards. So I better start you off: Firebelle, daughter of Firefly Jr., daughter of Firefly, Sr. Sister of Firefly III, but I’d prefer if you left her out entirely. I knew from an early age that I was destined for greatness…shouldn’t you be writing this down?”

“Oh, I’ll remember,” Hope assured her. “I’m good with stories.”

Midnight had already turned away and started looking around, gathering an appraisal of the surrounding area. “Oh...Yes, histories. I was abandoned by my father, a very important stallion in the town of Horn’s Reach, and shunted off to live with my...abusive? Let’s go with horrendously abusive uncle. I was forced to live in a cardboard box in the attic for eleven years on a steady diet of gruel and water while Uncle Blueblood spent my inheritance on ‘hooks and blowing balloons’—well, that was what my innocent young ears heard, anyway. If I was really good, I was allowed to eat a little ceiling spackle as a special treat on my birthday. The happiest day of my life was when they put a hole in the box, to let the rainwater in. I shared the box with a rack of expired chemical supplies. Needless to say, Science was my only friend.” She looked at Hope and dared her to believe her story. “Speaking of which, I’m going to need some supplies. I don’t suppose I could take a share of that gold and buy a cart with it, can I?” She turned to look back at the pegasus.

“Well of course we can buy a cart!” Firebelle exclaimed. “How can Hope here be the lowly cart puller without a cart?!”

Midnight snorted and poked at Hope’s side. “She called you lowly. I’d never do that.”

“Well, duh!” Firebelle exclaimed. “You’re supposed to start out lowly and suffering! If I accepted my inheritance then I’d be the third-richest pony in Lampyra, but rich and happy doesn’t get you through the doors at the Inn. Weren’t you listening to a single word that Great-Great Aunt Rigged was saying? I mean, she does tend to drone on and on, and tell you that you have to eat your beets if you want to grow up big and strong, but she does occasionally know what she’s talking about!”

“Beets, really?” asked Hope, crinkling her nose. “I always heard it was alfalfa.”

“Uh, Celestia, I hope not!” Firebelle exclaimed. “I hate alfalfa!”

“Celestia! That was her name...Hope, you’re our new storyteller. Tell me everything you know about Celestia while we walk,” Midnight demanded.

Celestia blanched and nearly tripped. “Uh, well...that might—”

“I’ll do it!” Firebelle said, jumping a bit as she waved a hoof in the air. “I had to learn all about Her. It’s my in to the Inn...get it?”

“That’ll do. Go on ahead. Especially the gruesome bits. The bits where She smites things. All goddesses smite things, yes?” The unicorn asked.

Celestia inwardly winced at each capitalized pronoun. (I should note that capitals are much easier to hear in spoken Equine than in English.)

Firebelle stopped walking to giggle, a giggle that built into a belly laugh. “Rogbog the Overpowering,” she said, to explain herself.

This caused a surprised Celestia to start laughing, too. “Stop hitting yourself,” she said between laughs.

“Stop hitting yourself!” Firebelle exclaimed, rolling on the ground.

“Stop hitting yourself! Stop hitting yourself!” the two mares cried out joyfully.

“What? I must have missed something—is this one of those things only religious ponies understand?” Midnight turned and walked backwards to better watch the two crazy ponies.

“Celestia didn’t start out as a goddess,” Firebelle exclaimed, using her left wing to wipe the laugh tears from her eyes. “She earned Her status by outsmarting every foe to face Equestria, including gods. The only thing in the world capable of hurting Rogbog the Overpowering was himself. So she tricked him into developing a second personality for his second head, and they beat each other senseless.”

Midnight frowned, before rolling her eyes. “That’s...absurd. Really, you expect me to believe that? Wasn’t She the goddess of the sun or some such? It’d be a much better story if She had to stop the sun from crashing into Equus than give another god some sort of personality disorder.”

“Well I think it’s a good story. What about you, Hope?”

“I’d prefer to be modest, but I have to say I love that one,” Celestia admitted.

“Anyway, I’ve seen the royals raise the sun,” added Firebelle. “So claiming to be goddess of it is kinda like claiming to be the goddess of spring plumage, or something equally unimpressive.”

“True...If my sister can do it, anypony can.” Midnight sighed, resigning herself to listen to them. “So, what else did She do, besides tricking gods?”

Firebelle had to think about this for nearly a minute.

Celestia sighed in disappointment.

“No, hold on, I got this!” Firebelle said, raising a hoof. “She, um...She…”

“She formed…” Celestia prompted.

“She formed the united government of Equestria!” Firebelle said. “Wrote the constitution and everything. Not that that’s very useful nowadays. And She took care of orphans.”

Celestia had to swallow a sudden lump of emotion. “That wasn’t Celestia,” she said. “Luna took care of the orphans.”

“Right, and Luna was the cool one, right? All dark and night and bats? I remember Her,” Midnight said determinedly.

“No, no,” Firebelle corrected her. “Luna was the name of her imaginary friend, the way she kept herself sane against the mental attacks of Discord.”

“Why would a goddess who could literally bring another creature into existence have an imaginary friend?” Midnight pointed out.

“Because She was just a filly then, and Discord had just eaten Her parents,” Firebelle explained patiently. “It’s like I was saying: all heroes start out lowly and miserable, even the ones that end up as goddesses.”

Celestia stayed very quiet, her eyes slowly growing as she absorbed lie after lie about herself and her sister. She knew that the stories that ponies told each other said a great deal about their hopes and dreams...and nightmares.

“But She was smart enough to trick a god, and do a lot more than that. Why would Her imaginary friend still exist after that? She was powerful by then. She could have made Luna real. Why didn’t She?” Midnight insisted.

Firebelle started responding to the first part of Midnight’s statement before she had time to process the rest. “Because She started out normal—aren’t you listening? She studied under Star Swirl the Bearded, and that’s when She became so smart.”

Celestia was all ready to correct Firebelle at this point, to tell her that “Celestia” had in fact trained under her father Clover the Clever...but then she caught herself, and imagined a world where she’d get to have Star Swirl as her father instead of the bitter ex-hero she ended up with. “Yes, yes, that’s precisely right,” she said with a nod.

“Wait…” Firebelle said. “What was that part about making Her...that’s it! That’s where She came from! Nightmare Moon!”

“Nightmare Moon?” Celestia asked chillingly.

“Yes, Nightmare Moon!” Firebelle insisted. “The only foe able to defeat Celestia—created from Celestia’s own nightmares! It makes so much sense that it has to be true.”

“I don’t know,” Midnight said doubtfully. “How could Celestia the Clever--”

“Do not call her that name!” Celestia exclaimed vehemently.

“What?”

“Just...don’t, OK?”

“Okay. Calm down, you two.” Midnight turned to face front again and collected herself. “So. Celestia, regardless of all this other stuff, was primarily a force of knowledge, good, and protection. Yes? If so, Her sigils may act as a harmonic resonance with the current gods, a counter harmony. They all despise Her, why wouldn’t Her artifacts or signs nullify or dull Their frequency?”

Celestia said nothing. She was here, on Equus, not some goddess watching from on high, and she had no power to make magic work, just because a spell was cast in her name. Again, that was only something that a god or goddess could do. But there was no way that Hope Springs would know that, so she remained silent, and prayed to the Nameless Gods that Midnight wouldn’t hurt herself too badly with her delusion.

Firebelle thought over Midnight’s conclusions and then nodded. “That makes sense,” she said. “Just so long as the artifacts you use haven’t been corrupted.”

“Okay. That’s one, but what other dead gods and goddesses are there? There has to be more.”

“There’s the Temple of the Sacrosanct,” said Celestia. “It was established by, um, Celestia to honor all of the pre-Unification deities.” She then grimaced. “Unfortunately, it was demolished during the Uprising. I...the order was given to have it rebuilt, but I never found out if that order was ever carried out.”

The unicorn nodded firmly. “Well...I suppose I will have to use the two I know of then. Celestia and Phyletus.”

“Well, it was located at the western entrance of Whinnychester,” said Hope. “We should pass it on the way to Hoofington.”

“Whinnychester?” asked Midnight. “Never heard of it.”

“She means the Everfree Forest,” said Firebelle.

“We will need weapons for that trip,” Midnight replied.

“I’m way ahead of you,” said Firebelle with a grin. “Just wait until tomorrow, and you’ll see! That’s why I’m the boss, and you’re the minions.”

Author's Note

The chapter title in this case is more of a "gut feel" than an actual correspondence between the Pirates of Penzance song and this text.

...Which means once again I'll fall back on McPoodle's suggested YouTube video:

Chapter 10: Cloud Cuckoo Land It Was Not

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 10: Cloud Cuckoo Land It Was Not

Celestia awoke in the shade.

This was a curious thing. It was a standard trope after all, that everypony would always be awakened by Celestia’s sun, whether they wanted it or not.

Celestia looked up longingly in the direction of her sun. She wondered if it missed her.

And then a melon spontaneously impaled itself on Midnight’s horn.

“Oops…”

Midnight opened her eyes and started flailing at about the same time, trying to get the melon off while flushed red with shock and something else.

“Hey, Firebelle! Those your minions?”

The pegasus groggily raised her head. “Who said that?” she asked.

“Up here!”

Firebelle craned her neck upwards. “Who?”

“It’s Cousin Cumulous!”

“Oh hey, long time, no see!”

“So, are they or are they not those minions you always bragged about getting?”

“Oh! Yup!”

“Good! Then breakfast’s on the Cloud.”

A high pitched whine began to make itself heard, as the melon on a red faced and scowling Midnight’s horn began to glow with blue light.

“Uh oh,” warned the as-yet unseen voice from above. “I think that one’s broken.”

Hope raised a hoof to help, until she recognized the building spell and instead found a spot behind a nearby bush.

Firebelle groaned. “Do I have to fix everypony’s problems? Hold on…”

That move of course put her at ground zero when the melon finally detonated.

The sharp crack left everypony’s ears ringing as many chunks of fruit were deliberately fired upwards, the heat leaving Midnight literally steaming. “No!” she exclaimed. “You do not wake a noble unicorn by dropping a melon on her! I will not accept this as the new state of affairs!”

“Naw, this ain’t no New State of Affairs! This here is the New Pegasus State of Lampyra. That unicorny minion of yours ain’t too bright!”

Firebelle meanwhile was just coming around, her face stained pink from the exploded fruit. She was flat on her back, and one wing was outstretched. “Why are the little buggies flying backwards?” she asked herself.

Hope re-emerged from the bush. “Are you alright?” she asked Firebelle, one hoof outstretched to help her up.

“Are you even going to ask about me?” asked Midnight.

Hope glanced over her shoulder. “You look like you’re ready to kill somepony. Which for you is the very picture of health!”

Firebelle stared at Hope’s outstretched hoof with a look of fear. “Cumulous!” she ordered from her prone position. “Send down some shoes and a cloud for these two! And get a proper breakfast together for when we get up there.”

“I swear, if that’s code for ‘arrest my newfound allies’ I will pull your ventricles out through your throat,” Midnight declared.

Firebelle whistled. “Midnight, you’ve officially been promoted.”

At that, the unicorn perked up, trotting closer. “Promoted? That sounds better, what am I being promoted to?”

“Pony in charge of taunting our enemies while Hope and I do all the actual fighting.”

Midnight very briefly looked like she was about to do something violent, but abruptly she took on a neutral expression, and turned away.

“Fine. Breakfast time, right?”

By this time a yellow-green pegasus with a green-yellow mane and tail had descended to the ground from atop a small fluffy cloud. Spread out before him were eight light blue hoofslippers. “Put these on,” he said as he kicked them to the ground. “And don’t lose them! We’d have to pay a wing and a tail to order replacements.”

“Yeah. Sounds great,” Midnight said with a false smile, reaching up to tuck her mane behind her ears, before slipping on all four and carefully but firmly stepping up onto the cloud as best she could. “Any safeguards if these things slip off?”

“Tie them on really tight with twine?” the pegasus asked rhetorically. “Or yell really loud. Yeah, that’s probably your best bet—yell really loud while you’re falling.”

Hope quietly put on her shoes and joined Midnight on the cloud. “Cumulous?” she asked.

“Yup!” the pegasus replied.

Midnight looked the greenish pony up and down. “And how in Equestria did you end up named after a cloud?”

“Uh...well, my ma’s far-sighted, see, and she sort of mistook the blanket for my fur.”

At this, Midnight couldn’t keep herself from laughing, shaking her head and looking back out towards the horizon. “I can’t...really? It wasn’t passed on through the generations, or...just...blanket color?”

“And jus’ what are you implying, Miss?” the pegasus asked darkly. “Are you casting aspersions upon my kinfolk?”

“No, no, of course not. My name is Midnight. A time of night that implies complete darkness. I was neither born at night, nor am I black coated. We all have silly parents,” she says, waving a hoof.

“Oh. Well, that’s alright, I guess.”

Hope looked over at Firebelle, who was still on her back, although her left wing had been pulled back out of sight. “Are you coming up with us?” she asked.

“No,” said Firebelle with a small smile. “I’ll come up after you. My...wings could use the exercise.”

Hope noted that one eyelid seized up when she said “wings”. “Alright,” she said cautiously.

“Now hold on everypony,” Cumulous said, as he launched himself into the air. “I don’t want to come back and catch you.” He flew under the cloud, and began to push it upwards.

Midnight nudged Hope with a hoof. “Tragic backstory written all over that filly’s failure to fly. She’s got a leg up on us, or should I say, a wing.” She snorted.

Celestia looked coldly at her. “I am not in the habit of mocking things that cannot be controlled,” she remarked. And then she turned away, and put her amiable mask back on.

The ponies on the cloud stood silently, as below the sound of belabored wingflaps could be faintly heard far below.

#

A few minutes later, the small cloud finally joined the substance of the larger one. Hope and Midnight stepped forward and looked around.

The variety of cloud architecture never failed to impress Celestia. There was a basic form dictated by the limitations of the building material, but aside from that, everything from modest mock temples to circus tent-like structures to grand mansions to rival anything built for a unicorn were on display.

As the pair of ponies were busy examining these features, a panting Firebelle finally hauled herself up onto the cloudtop. She reached back to cover her back with her blanket, when a shadow fell over her.

“Cover yourself at once!” commanded a matronly pegasus, who just then landed between Firebelle and the others, her outspread wings completely blocking her from sight. Like Firebelle, she was a warm pink in color, although her mane only had the blue tone from Firebelle’s mane, and not the red. In size she completely dominated Firebelle, and even towered over the average-sized Cumulous.

“I was doing that, Mother,” the small pegasus whined.

“And who gave you permission to come up here, anyway?” the large pegasus demanded.

There was a pause, for what was almost certainly a dramatic eyeroll. “May I please visit with some guests, Mama?”

“Why of course!” the mother pegasus agreed brightly. “It’s always good to see that you’re making friends, instead of brooding over at Bee Villa and plotting to throw your life away at that beastly Inn!”

Firebelle walked past the other pegasus to join the unicorn and earth pony. “Midnight, Hope, this is my mother Firefly Jr. Mother, these are my minions. They’re going with me to the Inn.”

Firefly’s glare looked hot enough to melt tungsten.

Midnight grinned, bearing the glare without so much as a flinch. She then bowed to the matron. “Midnight Sparkle, Heiress to the Westermarch. A pleasure to meet you, and an honor to visit your esteemed city.”

Firefly was taken aback. “Well! The...the pleasure is all mine, Mademoiselle. Welcome to my humble little…”

“Autocracy?” Firebelle suggested darkly.

She got a swat upside the head for this remark. “City-state!” Firefly finished. To Cumulous she said, “Stage Five. Now.” This caused the green pegasus to fly away like a gnat in a hurricane. “It’s just a minor little project of mine,” she explained warmly, spreading her wide wings to encompass the trio of remaining ponies. “An attempt to see what can be accomplished by concentrated effort. It’s what my distant ancestors the Bees were attempting before Fate intervened.”

“Like the fabled Pegasus cities of old, hmm?” Midnight added, letting herself be guided.

“Yes, but the key is scale! The members of the Heptarchy were far too large for proper centralized control. My goal is to have a personal relationship with all of my citizens, so I may better direct their lives, not only for the good of the Cloud, but also to best help them to realize their potential as individuals.”

“Oh yes,” Firebelle growled, “a place for every wellbodied pony.”

Firefly looked down upon her small daughter. “I’m glad you came to visit,” she said in a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “But why exactly are you here?”

“Oh, well to reunite with the family, of course!” Firebelle replied with equally false cheer. “And perhaps to pick up a few supplies.”

“The family’s not available,” Firefly said quickly. “They don’t need to know—”

“That I’m still alive?” Firebelle replied, sucking all air out of the immediate vicinity.

“I believe that I can provide a solution to this little...conflict, here...” Midnight pondered, while circling the two related pegasi. “See, I was abducted by my Uncle, in a crude power grab, and am on the run. I can promise to see that, shall I ever gain my rightful position, that my people never bother yours. This diplomatic outreach would be reason enough for us to be here, yes? No need to confront old problems, or family feuds. You are resupplying a noble on the run out of good will, and their companions may as well be given due accommodations. How does that sound, my good friend, and fellow noble?” She said all this casually, still walking slowly around them. Then she noticed something that had changed. “What happened to all of the houses?”

Indeed, a party of fast-acting pegasi led by Cumulous had just re-shaped every one of the buildings to match the Classical style popularized by Pegasopolis in the pre-Unification era, presumably to conform to Midnight’s prejudices and thereby gain her aid.

But her words had just destroyed all desire to obtain this aid. Firefly turned her head sideways as she processed Midnight’s speech. “So let me see if I have this straight,” she said slowly. “You’re embroiled in a unicorn noble feud, the sort of feud that inevitably leads to the suffering and even slaughter of earth ponies and pegasi such as myself. You are heading to the Inn of the Prancing Pony, a quest that will inevitably lead, not only to your own death, but even more needless suffering and slaughter of anypony who gets in your way. And finally, I am a noble because I say that I am, not because of any dry-as-dust paper bloodline, which in your eyes probably makes me a peasant! And finally, you are consorting, aiding, and abetting my ex-daughter in an activity which I, as a reigning monarch, have expressly forbidden her, which constitutes a clear act of treason according to the laws which I wrote and which are sacrosanct so long as you are standing upon my dominion. Is there any reason why I shouldn’t drop you onto the nearest rock upon your arrogant, addled and pointed head?!”

Hope noticed that Firefly had said “and finally” twice. She thought it the better part of valor not to point this out.

“Cumulous!” Firefly ordered.

The pegasus was instantly before her. “Yes, Mistress?”

“Put all the buildings back.”

“But I just…”

“Now! They don’t deserve the deluxe treatment anymore.”

Meanwhile, Midnight’s jaw was still open as she contemplated the sheer failure of her attempt at political negotiation. Recovering, she looked away, trying to gather her thoughts.

“I’m here to buy supplies,” Firebelle said quietly. “Let me do that, and you’ll never have to see me again.”

The veins in Firefly’s temples were visibly pounding. The blood vessels in her eyes were all shot, and as she slowly turned her gaze from one pony to the next, her neck popped from one position to the next as if operated by a rusting mechanism. Her eyes finally stopped on Hope. “Well,” she asked, snorting scalding hot air at her through her nostrils, “have you got any reason for me not to pronounce sentence upon you all?!”

Celestia thought for a moment if there was anything she could do to defuse the situation. But she couldn’t really come up with anything, and decided instead to do something she’d never do as Princess.

“All this anger isn’t good for you,” she said in a very simple voice. “I think you need a chill pill.”

“DEATH!” Firefly screamed, her mane actually igniting. “DEATH TO EVERYPONY!”

Pegasi scattered in every direction.

“No, Hope is right.” Midnight turned back to face Firefly. “Can’t believe I’m saying it, but the earth pony is more right about this than I am. Now shut it.”

A single cool blue bubble inflated from Midnight’s horn and wrapped around the raging pegasus, solidifying in a perfect sphere that rested gently on the clouds.

“Lightning! Hurricanes! Ten-thousand meter high tsunamis of death! Death! Death!” Firefly raged from within her bubble. And indeed, lightning bolts were racing around inside the shield, trying to break out. They hit the pegasus several times, but as was usual for her breed, bounced harmlessly off of her hide. Eventually, the bubble began to fill with water vapor from her powers running out of control. Once the pegasus was obscured from view, she stopped shouting.

Midnight waited patiently. Other pegasi gathered around her, gaping up at the bubble in awe.

Finally, the vapor began to disburse, being collected together into small disks under Firefly’s slowly tapping hooves. She looked coldly down at the ponies, her breathing rate steadily decreasing.

Most of Firefly’s subjects decided at that point that it might be safer to not be impressed upon their leader’s memory at this moment, and slinked away.

Finally, with a loud snort, her expression went neutral, and Midnight released her.

Firefly turned around, and walked away. “Do...whatever,” she said. “I don’t care.”

By this time the cloud city had been returned to his chaotic glory once more.

“So, what do you need?” asked Firebelle.

“Me?” asked Midnight. “I’m surprised that worked. Anyway, a cart, food...daggers and maybe a sword or something? Oh and an empty barrel.” She pulled the earth pony aside. “Hope, you know...things. She’s got a country here to rule and you probably can convince her that I didn’t just try to wreck it. I really don’t want every cloud to have an assassin behind it,” Midnight turned away and looked down at the land, leaving the other two to handle the rest.

Hope looked over at Firefly for a few seconds. “I think she still needs to cool down a bit.” She then turned to her daughter. “Rope,” she told Firebelle. “Lots of good strong rope. Trust me on this one. And no weapons for me.”

“Alright,” Firebelle said doubtfully. “But don’t blame me if we two have to keep saving you as a result.” She led them to a large cloud structure shaped like half of an enormous pipe planted into the clouds. “Now hold on a second while I get my willow tincture prescription refilled at the chemist’s.”

Midnight sighed and waited, after a few moments she turned to Hope.

“How do you know so much?” she asked with a frustrated tone. “Every other earth pony I’ve ever met has been scared to so much as speak in my presence, yet you’ve not only corrected me regularly, you’ve been right. I followed up on the electro plating thing, and it’s feasible. Not entirely easy, but feasible. Who are you, Hope Springs?”

Celestia, sitting on the cloud, gave Midnight a smile to rival that of the Sphinx. “I’m not fond of the word ‘no’. It just never sounds right on my tongue. Now ‘yes’ on the other hoof...you practically have to smile in order to say ‘yes’. Oh and by the way, you’re sitting in front of the only fully-stocked chemical supply warehouse we are likely to encounter on our entire journey.”

Midnight studied the tan pony, while nodding slowly. “Yes. Alright. Well, I guess that’s all I’m going to get out of you short of bedding you for more information. Thank you, Hope. I’ll be right back.”

She then spent nearly an hour gathering enough chemical and scientific supplies to make most cities jealous. Also enough to deplete the warehouse almost to a critical level.

Celestia meanwhile spent the time brooding. “Seventeen,” she said as Midnight and Firebelle rejoined her.

“What?”

“Never mind. I suppose I should find Firefly now like you said. Are you alright getting the rest of the supplies?”

“Are you only seventeen years old?” Midnight asked instead of answering, a smirk upon her lips. “No way.”

Hope laughed. “I remember seventeen,” she said as she walked away. “And every one of them regretted it.”

#

It took three trips with the largest of the detachable clouds to lower all of the purchased supplies to the ground. The final cloud returned to Lampyra with the cloud-walking shoes.

“I don’t want to even think what Mother is going to do with all of the money we just gave her,” Firebelle remarked.

“We didn’t pay your mother,” Midnight pointed out.

“Oh yes we did,” Firebelle replied.

At that moment Firefly flew down to land beside them, Hope resting comfortably upon her back. “Are you sure you won’t consider my offer?” Firefly asked her passenger.

“No, I’m afraid not,” Hope said, gracefully disembarking. “My cause is much more important.”

“I still think you’re doomed,” Firefly said with a resigned tone. “But I’ll definitely keep your words in mind. Seven years!”

Hope smiled enigmatically. “Twenty eight, surely.”

“It’ll be seven, just you wait!” She turned to Midnight. “May the winds watch over you,” she said curtly, then launched herself skyward.

“Nice seeing you, too,” Firebelle said quietly to herself.

“I’m sorry,” said Hope. “I tried my best but…”

“No, it’s alright,” Firebelle said. “She staged my funeral before I left the last time—’so at least you’ll be able to see how much we cared.’ There’s no way you would have swayed her.”

Midnight sighed, and put a foreleg over Firebelle’s back. “Listen...my family might not be evil, and I might not be good at dealing with them, but maybe...maybe it’ll get better.” She cringed. “Sorry, I’m crap at the whole ‘encouraging friend’ bit.”

Firebelle smiled warmly. “Midnight, I decided to demote you,” she said gently. “I think we’re better off without a designated taunter.”

“Thanks,” she chuckled, letting go and hitching herself to the cart. “I’ll just be the designated nag.”

The other two ponies laughed good-naturedly, as they headed off towards the western border of Unicornia.

“‘Twenty eight years’?” asked Midnight a few moments later.

“Private conversation,” Hope said curtly.

“I bet it was how long it would take her to conquer the whole of Equestria if she followed all of your advice,” Midnight teased.

Hope looked away and pursed her lips.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll shut up now,” she sighed, looking back to the front. “Every day I get worse,” she mumbled.

“Liberating,” Firebelle announced. “She surely would have called it ‘liberating’ rather than ‘conquering’.”

“And I just realized that we never got breakfast,” Midnight moped.

Author's Note

This post was accompanied by a blog entry introducing the two "editors" of this story, McPoodle and Hope.

Chapter 11: Border Crossing

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 11: Border Crossing

Midnight stared intensely at the piece of paper which was attached to the stripling birch tree with magical stickum. She tilted her head first one way, and then the other.

“They got my nose wrong,” she finally concluded.

“WANTED!” proclaimed the text above the blurry image of a mare’s face. “FOR TOP-SECRET CRIMES AGAINST THE MONARCHY!”

She pointed at the sketch that was supposed to represent her cutie mark. “What...” she sputtered. “Why would anypony think that a stein of beer looked like my beautiful and scientifically accurate cutie mark?”

“Perhaps the artist looked at it, gave up, and drew what he’d rather being doing at that moment,” suggested Firebelle.

“RETURN ALIVE OR SLIGHTLY CONCUSSED FOR A VALUABLE CASH REWARD OF B50.” There was a helpful illustration of a mostly empty bag of bits alongside this encouraging text.

“It’s just another bad attempt by Blueblood at driving me towards the Inn. Nopony would try and capture a capable unicorn for fifty bits. That’s just sad.”

“Actually, I think it’s sort of sweet,” said Hope. “He’s trying to keep you from getting hurt...in the saddest, most incompetent way possible.”

Midnight turned away, sighing. “We should move on.”

“Right,” said Firebelle, taking the lead. “The border’s less than a thousand strides west of here. Do you happen to know a secluded spot we can make the crossing? I mean, regardless of the state of that poster, we don’t know if Blueblood himself has given up the hunt.”

“I’ve never actually been this close to the border before...Hope, do you have experience with this area?” She asked, turning to the earth pony.

“I...what?” asked Hope. “You lived in Horn’s Reach. The actual name of the town was Horn’s Reach, as in the literal furthest point that the authority of the horned breed could extend. Did you ever even leave that lab of yours?”

Midnight stopped for a second to soak in Hope’s expression—it was the most frustrated she had ever seen the usually placid earth pony, and she was responsible. She didn’t feel very good about it, but at the same time it was immensely satisfying.

“Yes. Twice,” Midnight said, sighing and trying to hold back a smile. “I was quite busy, you see. Working on the aqua regia. Shame you didn’t come along sooner.”

Celestia sighed in frustration. Sure, she had a clear memory of what this part of the countryside looked like from above, thanks to her tussle with Kammy the Dragon, but not only would it be a mistake to reveal intelligence only a pegasus would possess, but also that intelligence was seventy-five years out of date, and notably lacking in political borders and four-color shading. “I’m perhaps better able to tell you where to go to not be in the vicinity of the border,” she admitted sheepishly at last.

“Great, that’s just great!” exclaimed Firebelle. “That’s like half my planned advantage in hiring you two in the first place!”

“Hire? Does that mean we’re getting paid?” Hope asked with a smile.

“It’s more like ‘hire’ in the technical sense. Like hiring a cab.”

“You have to pay for cabs.”

Midnight stepped forward. “We could have purchased a map if this had been a known issue.”

Firebelle laughed. “Lampyran maps consist solely of the nation of Lampyra, surrounded by a great expanse labeled ‘Abandon all hope, ye who enter here.’”

Hope raised an eyebrow.

“We didn’t mean you, personally,” Firebelle quickly added.

Midnight snorted in frustration. “But now we have to cross,” she addressed them. “So, the best course of action is just to do it.” After a pause, Midnight raised a hoof. “Sorry...in my opinion, it would be best.”

“No, no, of course you’re right,” said the pegasus. She looked at the cart. “Let’s see...trading. Yes, we might just get away with that. Keep the weapons well hidden, though.”

The trio crested the top of a low hill, and looked down at the rolling landscape below them. There were large splotchy areas to the north and south that were blackened and devoid of all vegetation.

“Wow, what happened?” asked Firebelle. “Looks like a forest fire!”

“Yeah, if a forest fire was capable of flying from place to place,” Midnight said with a roll of her eyes.

“Ivan,” said Hope.

“Ivan?”

“Yeah, that mad band of adventurers I escaped from were going to loot the tomb of the ‘ex-dragon Ivan’ after they were through with Horn’s Reach,” Hope explained. “Given their utter disregard for anypony’s lives other than their own, I gave even odds that they’d end up liberating this Ivan character rather than defeating him.”

The reactions of the pegasus and the unicorn could not be any more different from one another.

“Wow!” Firebelle exclaimed. “A dracolich! I would have given anything to see some genuine adventurers fighting one of those! That must have been epic!”

“A dracolich!” Midnight exclaimed. “That’s just horrifying! Those things are nearly impossible to stop! That thing must have left a trail of destruction and devastation all the way into the heart of Unicornia! Please tell me that you warned my father of this threat during your interview with him!”

“By the gods,” Hope said with a distant look in her eyes. “He changed the subject. I was going to tell him. By all rights, that was the question he was supposed to ask me, but then he started challenging my intelligence and I had to defend it and...I never told him! How many ponies are dead now because I put my pride above my duty?”

“Whoa, whoa there, Hope,” Midnight said, putting a hoof on her withers to calm her down. “If that monster did go on a rampage, we’d know about it. There is no possible way that Prince Blueblood would have wasted time on us if there was a monster on the loose in his kingdom. The guy’s an idiot, but he does have his priorities straight.”

“Oh,” said Hope, feeling much better. “So I guess they must have stopped Ivan then.”

“Oh sure!” Firebelle exclaimed, belatedly putting her own hoof on Hope’s withers and shoving Midnight’s out of the way. “All somepony would have to do is find his phylactery and smash it. And in the stories of adventurers that I’ve studied, those immortality spells never work right on dragons. He was probably made so stupid by the spell that he put it next to his toothpaste or something. Besides, if a dracolich was really on an uncontrollable rampage, the magical residue would have been so severe that Sparkle here would be a raving lunatic from the feedback!”

Hope looked happily over at the unicorn.

“Random bouts of magic-induced insanity to warn you of danger,” Midnight said laconically. “Yet another valuable service that I provide to this team for no extra charge. Now with that out of the way, let’s cross this border.”

With all of the immense expanses of rampant destruction around them, it was perhaps understandable that it took until now for the three ponies to notice the one feature that lay in the largest patch of normal vegetation before them: right in front of them, commanding a view of the entire valley, was a unicorn outpost.

Three simultaneous sighs resulted from this revelation.

#

“So,” said the tall, thin, beady-eyed inspector at the crossing. “For what reason are you leaving this fair country of ours?”

“Why, trade of course!” exclaimed a too-cheery Firebelle, who was pulling the cart.

“Really?” asked the co-inspector, a small fat unicorn with a nasal voice.

“Chemical supplies.” Midnight stepped up to the cart, and pulled out a small barrel of paper packets, opening each to show powders or jars. “Copper bars, copper powders, phosphate salts, foil of aluminum, cyanoacrylate bonding agents, potassium cyanide and many other fine quality materials, along with beakers, jars, flasks...we even have a genuine bottle of whale oil that can be used for fueling very hot flames. Such things are expensive out in the reaches of other lands, and we are hoping to make a tidy profit and return immediately to the safety of our country.” Midnight rattled all this off without appearing to give her words a second thought, afterwards setting everything back into the barrel and putting it into the wagon. “May we go now, good sir?”

The inspector’s eyes had been glazing over during this speech, until he heard the word “flames”. “Wait a moment, now,” he said. “These aren’t no explosives are they?”

“Of course not. An explosive burns quickly. These things only burn like a camp fire. Constant slow heat. An explosive wouldn’t be worth transporting anyway, what with the danger of combustion.” By this point, Midnight had determined the stallion to be an idiot, and was simply waiting for the weight of his empty skull to cave in on itself.

“Look, I don’t care how explosives work, just whether anything you’ve got is on the banned list or not. Oh, and none of that is a ‘unicorn state secret’, is it?” He read the phrase off of a well-worn scrap of paper that he was floating in his magic. “It would be a big to-do for us if we let through anything that those earth pony savages could lob right back at us, you know?”

The co-inspector nudged the inspector and pointed at Hope.

“Can we have cabbages for lunch?” Hope asked brightly.

The earth shuddering, soul destroying groan that Midnight let out was carefully practiced, years of hate against stupidity in general lending a certain tone of impending doom to it. “Yes. We can have cabbages. For lunch. Now good sir, inspector, can we please go so I may feed my cart puller?”

The pair of unicorns looked at the pegasus that was currently pulling the cart.

“Alternate cart puller.”

“Oh,” said the two inspectors in unison.

The head inspector went into a tiny little shack that probably could not ever fit the fatter one, and came back with a bright orange decal, which was affixed to the back of the cart. “Congratulations, you passed the inspection by Station 35. Please remember us if you ever meet any government representatives looking for exemplary service.”

“Yeah, or we’re never going to get out of this stinkhole,” commented the co-inspector.

“Now, farewell on behalf of the Unicorn Kingdom. This here is the last bit of gen-u-ine civilizationne that you’ll probably see until you get back here. That’s Prench right there.”

Firebelle pulled the cart across the imaginary line of the border. Midnight then turned around and faced the two unicorns. “Just...just stand there for a bit,” she said, sitting down and raising her forehooves to frame them. “I just want to remember you two...just the way you are.”

The two unicorns accordingly put on their best dumb smiles.

“And...perfect! Thank you.” She walked quickly away. “Two perfect idiots,” she mumbled. “Preserved for posterity.”

After trotting to the edge of the forest, Midnight looked to Hope, took in a deep breath, and spoke. “Are we all that bad, Hope?”

Hope looked at her with worried eyes. “The part that troubles me is that everypony keeps asking me that question. As if they didn’t know for themselves. Do I have to say that ponies are good for them to be good? I sure hope not.”

“Well...I’m sorry. I guess after Muddy betrayed me without a second thought, I suppose that I have a much diminished view of my own race.”

Hope looked away. “I couldn’t hope to guess as to Muddy’s motives—”

“Oh, I can,” Firebelle interrupted. “The Prince treated him like his foster son. I heard he even raised him from birth. How long have you known him?”

“Seven years, he was in and out of Horn’s Reach since I moved into the place and put out an ad for a...well, for a unicorn that could help me with moving delicate things.” Midnight sighed. “I recall now that Uncle offered to send me one of his servants to work for me. I turned him down, because I knew he’d just steal any of my discoveries and take credit for them himself.”

“Well, I suppose Muddy will have to stand for one of the exceptions,” said Hope. “But I do believe in general that all ponies want to be good, and simply have to be shown a good example to aspire to.”

“I will do my best to keep that in mind,” Midnight said firmly, with a nod.

Firebelle frowned. “I don’t think you’ve been seeing the right parts of the world, Hope,” she said. “There’s plenty of good examples out there, and I fully intend to become one of them—at the Inn.”

Hope and Midnight shared a look of foreboding at that sentiment.

The hills continued past the border, and into the west. Dimly visible on the horizon was a green band—the entrance to the Everfree.

“Keep sharp, minions,” Firebelle instructed the others. “This ground we are crossing is cursed.”

“Curses are merely unexplained scientific phenomena,” said Midnight in a tired voice. “I have yet to see one that is anything but child’s play...” Just as it seemed that Midnight was being a bit too harsh, she grinned. “I look forward to seeing what this one is like.”

“Oh, you won’t like it, I promise you that,” said Firebelle. “We are standing on some of the most fertile ground in all of Equestria. Seven different families and two co-operative ventures have tried to settle this land since the fall of Celestia, but none of them have thrived.”

Celestia bent down to examine the soil. It did indeed appear to be perfect for farming. “So what happened?” she asked.

“Fighting,” answered Firebelle. “Insults building to epic feuds, leaving every group fleeing the area before they were forced by the curse into killing each other! This area is saturated...with the Spirit of Disharmony.”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Nope,” she said. “Definitely not Him.”

“Uh...you sure?” asked Firebelle.

“Positive,” said Celestia. It seemed pretty obvious to her what was happening: big brave stallions too proud to admit that they couldn’t stand up to the fear of living next to the Everfree decided to use the excuse of a “curse” to cover why they slunk back to their homes with their tails between their legs. “There’s another explanation,” she said, “although it would be unkind of me to suggest it.”

“They genuinely wanted to kill each other?” Midnight asked curiously.

“Well, that’s what they said,” Firebelle replied. “I mean, why else would they leave a place like this?”

An unearthly howl chose that moment to rush down the landscape, emanating from the forest.

Despite her bluster, Midnight slowed and stopped, looking quite shaken. “What was that?”

“Timberwolves, probably,” answered Firebelle.

“Oh, of course. Timberwolves. Naturally.”

“Are there a lot of them in the Everfree?” asked Hope.

“Oh yes,” said Firebelle.

“Do they ever leave the forest?”

“Sometimes. Especially when adventurers are camping outside, for some inexplicable reason.”

Hope looked at the forest, then north to a vast swamp, south to an imposing rock gorge, and finally back east towards Unicornia. “Everypony who wants to be an adventurer goes through the Everfree to Hoofington, right?”

“Right,” answered Firebelle, not sure where this line of questioning was heading.

“And if they’re coming from Unicornia, they’re almost certainly passing through this very spot, yes?”

“I suppose so.”

She looked at the Everfree again.

“Oh no...” Midnight whimpered.

Chapter 12: Cruelty Trap

Author's Note

Alright, just warning you in advance: This is the first chapter in this story that earns the "Teen" rating.

Chapter 12: Cruelty Trap

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 12: Cruelty Trap

Night was coming.

“It would be the height of insanity to enter the Everfree in darkness,” Firebelle declared as she unhitched herself from the cart. “So we’ll make camp here. I’ll take the third watch, because that’s always the hardest one.”

“I can take first watch,” said Midnight.

Hope shrugged and started helping Firebelle to make camp.

Midnight stepped to the edge of their chosen camp location, while looking around. Her horn lit up to pull her dagger closer, nervously twirling it and pondering having to actually use it.

After a short meal, Firebelle and Hope settled down around the campfire to sleep.

#

Midnight silently watched the stars until her namesake hour, and then woke Hope.

“It’s your turn,” she said. “Nothing amazing...do you want a dagger, or a sword? I’ve been trying each and honestly I think I’m leaning towards dagger.”

“No,” Hope said quietly, “I think I’ll depend on these hooves. I’ve quite a bit more experience with them.” She got up and slowly stretched herself to avoid cramping in the frigid air.

“Yeah, yeah...” Midnight sighed and settled into Hope’s bedroll without thinking about it, quickly falling asleep.

Celestia smiled and looked indulgently down at the two sleeping ponies.

“Not quite little this time,” she murmured.

Then she set out to pace the area around the hill, trying to remain as silent as possible.

#

Several hours later, she woke Firebelle.

“So soon?” the pegasus asked.

Celestia merely nodded.

“What happened to your bed?” Firebelle asked.

Celestia shrugged with a smile.

“You might as well take mine,” Firebelle said.

Celestia nodded her thanks and settled in. Before she went to sleep she saw the dim silhouette of Firebelle, slowly stretching her mismatched wings. It looked like she grimaced with pain every time she worked her stunted appendage.

#

Midnight and Hope were awoken by the smell of pancakes being cooked on a skillet.

“You two had better dig in,” Firebelle said. “We’re probably not going to be eating this well again until we get to the Inn.”

The unicorn stood, looking at the bedroll she had woken up in, then at the still-rolled bedroll she was supposed to have used. A small blush showed itself as she got out a small wood plank and piled on a few pancakes. “Thank you, Firebelle. I look forward to the Inn more and more.” Her eyes moved to the cart as she ate, thinking over something in silence.

Hope made methodical work of her breakfast, her eyes on Firebelle.

Firebelle for her part took her time, relishing every bite, before cleaning everything up and packing their supplies back into the cart—all three ponies worked at this task.

Firebelle reached into her saddlebags and removed a letter-sized piece of gleaming white paper. Written atop it in very regular print was “Firebelle, Page 2”. The page was divided into sections by ruled lines. Each section had a header in the same style of print as the page title, but the details were filled in with somewhat jagged hoofwriting.

“What’s that?” asked Hope, coming near.

Firebelle carefully looked around, as if there could possibly be anypony anywhere near them to overhear this conversation.

Of course by this point, Celestia had very good reason to be at least a touch paranoid. She checked her internal sky map to be sure that the Summer Hexagon (and Foaltus) was below the horizon. It wasn’t perfect protection, but it would have to do. “Go on,” she prompted in a quiet voice.

“It’s my record sheet,” Firebelle replied, in a voice so low that the other two ponies had no choice but to huddle close in order to hear her. “Every pony that has a chance at reaching the Inn magically gets one. My Uncle Bernie snuck mine out to me. See? Here’s a summary of my life so far!” She seemed to derive no disparagement from the fact that it was only three sentences long.

Firebelle pointed at the third of those sentences, which read “Assisted Midnight Sparkle (q.v.) and Hope Springs (q.v.) in escaping from Prince Blueblood.” “This part wasn’t there a week ago,” she told them.

“What’s ‘q.v.’ mean?” asked Hope.

“Oh, that’s Adventurer-ese code to tell you that they have sheets of the two of you on file. At least, that’s what Uncle Bernie told me when he showed me his sheet.” She pointed to other parts of the sheet. “Here are my possessions, and here are my special abilities.”

“Special abilities? Did you write this yourself?” Midnight leaned over to try and get a look. “Does it say ‘leadership’ or something generic like that?”

“They missed that,” Firebelle said with a pout. “I’m sure it will show up any day now.”

“Well...maybe we can gamble for some food and amenities in the next town, see if this bit about ‘luck in dice games’ holds any truth to it,” Midnight scoffed.

Firebelle shrugged. “I’m just dexterous with my wingfeathers—that’s all.”

In the upper right corner of the sheet was a thin box labeled “Patron Deity”. Written in big bold letters in the box was “CELESTIA”, which gave the actual Celestia a sinking feeling in her gut. “Alright, if that’s Page 2, where’s Page 1?” Hope asked, looking for any excuse not to have to see her true name given that impossible role anymore.

“I’m not allowed to see that until I’m an adventurer,” Firebelle answered. She slid her hoof under the sheet and flipped it over...revealing Page 2 once again.

The paper was then surrounded in Midnight’s glow, as she incredulously flipped it a few times. “I don’t...why would someone make both sides the same? They are the same...” Before she could start folding it or ripping it to test its magical properties, it was snatched back.

“Wait, I think I see something,” noted Hope. “Hold it up to the sun.”

Doing so revealed that there definitely was another side that they weren’t seeing. At the very least, there was a grid with some numbers on it.

“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Firebelle said with a dismissive sniff, as she replaced her “record sheet”, and took out a second, much larger sheet of paper, which had been folded a couple of times to make it manageable. She spread it out on a nearby rock to reveal a map of the Everfree.

“Alright, here is the path I planned out,” she told them, tracing a black line through the forest. “It’s a two day crossing—three, if any of us are injured.”

Midnight blanched. “You’ve...planned for our injuries. I don’t know if that impresses or frightens me.”

“I’ve had my whole life to plan this out. So don’t take it personally—I had no idea who I’d end up crossing the Everfree with. Now, here is the settlement of Everhold; it’s where we will be staying tonight. Prices are exorbitant, as might be expected, but the dangers of camping in the Everfree make it more than worth it.”

Celestia pointed at a dark shape located right next to the settlement on the map. “And what is this?” she asked. She knew quite well what it was, but thought it best to get that information out into the open.

“It’s the Castle of the Two Pony Sisters,” explained Firebelle. “It’s abandoned. My sources are not very clear, but for some reason no ponies crossing the forest ever use it to hide in.”

Firebelle swept her hoof over the map. “The Everfree is designed for two purposes,” she told them, a dead-serious expression upon her face. “One: for would-be adventurers to prove themselves traveling from east to west, and two: for new adventuring groups to discover their own and each other’s abilities, traveling west to east. The monsters all seem to know this. Therefore, the more difficult creatures will always attack parties traveling east. Never travel east.”

As if the artificial nature of this situation could be made any more obvious, thought Celestia to herself.

“Next, if anypony needs to use a healing potion, take one now—I’ve got three for each of us. We will be scanned for magic when we arrive at the Inn. Any pony found to have taken a healing potion after entering the Everfree will not be allowed into the Inn.”

“Oh well that’s...” Midnight mumbled, frowning.

“Finally,” Firebelle continued, ignoring the interruption, “you may have noticed this large ram’s horn tied to the cart. Blowing on it will summon a party of adventurers to rescue us. It should not need to be said that doing so will also bar us from the Inn.

“So, any questions?”

Midnight raised a hoof. “Wouldn’t those who run the Inn prefer to have those who plan ahead survive, rather than ban those who know how to keep themselves safe?”

“You mean the potions?” asked Firebelle. “Healing potions are considered to be buying your way out of a problem. They are mass-produced by a factory in Pegasopolis, after all. That specific aura is what the Inn mages are looking for. Original magic is encouraged, whether defensive, offensive, or for recovery. One party used a shield spell so strong that they walked right across the forest without having to fight anything—it drained so much of their life force that they had to sleep for four days afterwards to recover, but technically, they didn’t break the rules. I don’t suppose you’ve got a spell like that on you?”

"Well, not as such, no. Though I do have a few spells that I hope will be helpful. My shields are immobile," Midnight admitted.

“Alright,” Firebelle said with a nod. “Hope and I will do our best to make sure that you’re not interrupted when you’re casting, so try to make every spell count. Oh, and there is no way to keep yourself safe in the Everfree.”

"Ominous but I believe you. Thank you for being so prepared..." Midnight trailed off. "I have a project I want to work on before we reach the inn, will we have any rest time after the travel?"

“There is only the one inn in Hoofington,” Firebelle replied, “and as the map shows, the town runs right up to the eastern edge of the forest. If you have something to do, do it now, or tonight at Everhold. I’d advise here—Everhold is known for its high population of thieves.”

The unicorn nodded. "I'll start it now then. It can work while traveling." Leaving the other two, she went off to start filling one of the smaller barrels with liquids and stuffing in some of the aluminum foil, carefully coiled into a loose spiral. Bitter smells came out until she sealed it off with a metal band.

While she had been doing this, Hope had quietly made her way over to the edge of the Everfree, where a large rectangular area of burnt soil was delineated by low piles of stones. She walked across the area to a spot near the front, and bowed her head in reverence before returning.

"What’s that, a ceremonial campfire?" Midnight asked from the cart.

“It was the Temple of the Sacrosanct,” Celestia said with a sigh. “I thought it deserved to be remembered by somepony.” She looked up. “Well, let’s go.”

They entered the Everfree two hours after dawn.

Firebelle led the trio on a heading of west-by-southwest. Around them, the forest gradually encroached, closer and closer.

“Shouldn’t there be some sort of trail?” Hope asked.

Firebelle shook her head grimly. “The vegetation grows over it every night.”

After an hour of walking, their steps started becoming more and more difficult, as hard-packed dirt transitioned to wet squelching mud.

Firebelle began to study her map.

Midnight grimly raised her dagger, her hooves unsteady and trembling a bit.

They suddenly emerged from the trees into a small open area. The air was full of a fetid odor, as dragonflies flitted from one lily pad to the next.

Firebelle scowled. “There is not supposed to be a swamp here!” she exclaimed with a stomp of one hoof. She scowled some more at how hard it was to extract that hoof from the muck afterwards.

"Well, how deep is it, and how likely is it that there are things down there eager to eat us?" Midnight said.

“The water’s too murky to tell,” said Firebelle. “Unless we dropped a rock in, and then the thing that most certainly is down there will know that we’re here.”

“Can we go around?” asked Hope.

“Yes, and that’s what we’ll...everypony stand perfectly still.”

Two sets of eyes swiveled around to point in the same direction as Firefly’s.

Crouched at the edge of the marsh, and drinking in its foul waters, was an utterly alien creature, especially when it then reared up on its hind legs.

Its form most closely resembled that of running lizards, those creatures that sometimes comically run across bodies of water on their hind legs. This reptile was similar, only it was as tall as a Princess, and lacked the colorful neck fringe. Its small beady eyes looked utterly cold and merciless. It seemed to bounce lightly back and forth on its long legs and thick tail, as if waiting for something.

“It’s perfect,” Firebelle whispered. She quietly removed the blanket from her back, exposing her wings to sustained daylight for the first time in months. Streaks of red ochre ran across them, like trails of blood. Curled in the feathers of her left wing were four light daggers. From her panniers she removed a short scimitar which she held lightly in her teeth. “Well?” she asked the others.

Hope’s mouth dropped open in shock.

Midnight's horn shimmered as her dagger rose and began to smoke slightly. "If you get it closer, this should be red hot in a bit..." she whispered.

“Liz-zard!” Firebelle piped, hopping from one hoof to another. “Do you like...meat?” Her eyes seemed to be dilated.

The creature whipped its head around and stared at the trio.

“We could go around,” Celestia said quietly. In all her long life, she had never seen a creature like this, had never heard of anything even remotely resembling it. It truly was alien, imported to Equus along with the adventurers. Her traditional advantage of knowledge, of being able to judge the nature of her adversaries, when to use words and when action, was utterly lacking, and it left her terrified.

Slowly, and with big loping steps, the giant lizard began to approach them. It flexed its clawed fingers, and they could see that its mouth was filled with needle-like teeth.

“Just a leedle closer,” Firebelle said in a sing-song voice, as she crouched down.

The lizard stopped, raised itself up to its full height, and stared at them with unblinking black eyes. It turned its head, and presented its neck to them.

Nearly a minute passed.

“Aw, to Tartarus with this!” Firebelle snarled, and launched herself straight up in the air with her powerful legs. Flapping both of her wings, she quickly descended in a chaotic-seeming corkscrew, deploying all of her daggers as she did so.

The gutted lizard dropped soundlessly to the ground. It had made no move to defend itself.

Midnight gasped, the shimmering piece of metal falling from her magic onto the ground, as her eyes went wide, pupils dilated, breath coming too quick and too shallow. She slowly backed away.

“And that, my friends, was the ‘firebelle’ in action!” the pegasus boasted as she turned around. “What?” she asked incredulously on seeing their expressions. “Not afraid of a little—?”

She never finished her sentence, because that was the moment when the other six lizards in the pack attacked them from all sides. These lizards wore short skirts around their waists, made from a repugnant dried and wrinkled fabric. All were armed with daggers and spears, although most of the spears were immediately discarded as not being necessary.

"Blood..." whispered Midnight shakily as she raised the blade again and started pouring magic into it.

Celestia turned quickly and bucked the nearest lizard into a tree.

Four of the lizards concentrated on Firebelle, having identified her as the biggest threat. The pegasus spun the scimitar in her mouth so it was held out instead of sideways, and lunged forward, catching one of the creatures in the throat. With the faint hiss of expelled breath, it collapsed, its hands clasped to its gushing wound.

The other three lizards didn’t even pause for a moment. Firebelle was stabbed in the right wing, twice, causing her to cry out. The third lizard tried the same, but its blade only glanced across her feathers.

"Nonono...not now...!" Midnight retched before sending the red hot blade into the chest of a nearby lizard, causing it to scream out and claw at its burning wound until it died. A shield came up around her to protect against the one remaining lizard who was attacking her, as she threw up on the ground.

Celestia made to buck another lizard when the shield suddenly appeared around her. She lowered her hind legs and looked around.

The lizard that had been prepared to attack Midnight and Celestia bumped against the shield and fell down—what would be a comic sight under other circumstances. It then got up to join the two lizards attacking Firebelle, who was too far away to be included in Midnight’s spell.

Firebelle tried to launch herself into the air in order to unleash her signature attack once again, but was unable to pull free from the marsh muck she had unknowingly sunk into. The two lizards on either side immediately took advantage of this mistake by pulling her down, leaping upon her body, and tearing into her flanks with their tooth-filled jaws.

Firebelle’s scream was one of the most horrifying things that Celestia had ever heard.

“No!” Midnight screamed, the shield falling as she, sweat stained and looking to be drenched in mud or something else, fired four bolts of magical energy at the remaining lizards, downing one but only injuring the other two.

“Come for me! I will not let it end like this!” The unicorn screamed as she yanked the still smoking blade from the one she killed first.

Celestia rushed forward the instant the shield fell, grabbing one of the feeding lizards in her teeth by the tail, and yanking it away. She winced at the even louder scream from Firebelle, as this action ripped at her side.

Firebelle was bleeding profusely, and too weak to fight back. She looked like she was on the verge of passing out, and one last lizard was still trying to eat her alive.

The now only warm knife flew in from the side, merely scoring a glancing blow on its neck, as Midnight’s telekinetic hold faltered. The unicorn’s eyes started to cross, a sign of her magical fatigue.

Celestia, not used to how fast her earth pony body became tired when stressed, tried for a buck and nearly struck the pegasus by mistake.

The lizard continued to eat pegasus tartare.

The knife dropped, to be succeeded by three direct blasts of magic, while Midnight came within range to be nearly in tackling distance.

The lizard’s eyes, which had glazed over in the ecstasy of gorging, returned to normal as it noticed the unicorn’s existence for seemingly the first time. Reluctantly, it let go and raced away.

“Firebelle! Can you hear me? I can’t heal you but I can numb you, are you awake?” Midnight asked in rapid-fire, eyes locked on her face and avoiding the bloody pools all around.

Firebelle’s eyes flickered slowly open. “No...potions,” she insisted. “I can still...make it...to the Inn.”

Hope began to quietly and professionally bind Firebelle’s wounds with strips from the cloth that was being used to package their food, but there wasn’t nearly enough. Her look of disapproval was evident, but no words were spoken.

“I’m so sorry...I don’t know...I thought I was...I thought I was over the blood thing I just...I’m so sorry...” Midnight started to choke up, backing away.

“It’s alright, my minions,” Firebelle said, her eyes unfocused as she looked up to the forest canopy. “I can carry you all on my back. Climb aboard, climb aboard! For don’t you know that I can fly? Here we go!”

Celestia was in the act of opening her mouth—although not quite certain what to say—when the sensation swept over her. Just like after her battle with the timberwolf, she was overtaken by god magic. She felt a bit stronger after it was gone, a bit more sure of herself. Like maybe next time she faced seven lizard beasts, she wouldn’t miss bucking the last one like she did this time.

Something similar seemed to have happened to both Midnight and Firebelle. Midnight looked utterly flummoxed by what just happened, while Firebelle seemed to pass into a brief moment of quiet and desperate sanity before returning to her blabbering. Midnight simply muttered to herself as they walked.

“The rush of the experience...”

Chapter 13: Black Hooves

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 13: Black Hooves

There was no choice, really. Firebelle, in her decreasing moments of lucidity, refused to let them go back, and she refused to take any kind of liquid, thinking them all to be healing potions. They had to make for Everhold. Or knock her out, which in her present condition also seemed rather hazardous.

“We can do this, Hope. You’re a genius earth pony and I...well I can pull the cart,” Midnight said with a quivering smile and a forlorn sense of resignation. “Even if I can’t do much in a fight.”

“No more fighting,” Celestia declared grimly. “Not unless our lives depend on it.”

They proceeded deeper and deeper into the forest. Behind them, they left a thin trail of blood.

Celestia began to castigate herself as she walked. Surely there was something I could have done to save my companions from being injured so badly, she thought, especially considering that I emerged with nothing worse than a mild case of fatigue.

I must have held back. I will not accept the excuse of my current form—Hope Springs could have handled this, and would have, if I hadn’t hesitated.

And why did I hesitate? Did I perhaps want Firebelle to be hurt, to teach her some sort of sick lesson? That’s what they say, don’t they, that I ‘teach’ too much, that I do nothing but plot and manipulate, that I make every moment serve two or more goals, some of them decades in the planning? Firebelle was guilty in my mind, guilty of thinking like an adventurer, of attacking a seemingly innocent creature, for fun, for loot, for experience. But what manner of being would consider this amount of pain, this amount of delirium, blood loss and perhaps even death, should be a proper punishment for such an easily correctable fault? I should have talked to her, not left her to die to a trap she was utterly unprepared for.

For that was what our recent experience has surely been: a cruelty trap. An intelligent creature had deliberately acted dumb, acted helpless, bared its neck to us. A merciful being would have walked away, or at least offered to help. But Firebelle had attacked, and thus sprung the trap.

Perhaps we would have been attacked regardless of how we reacted—there’s no way to know that now.

#

Three hours later, the sun was doing its best to warm up the forest around them. The best it could do was raise the humidity, however—it was still rather cool.

Firebelle’s fever, though, was soaring.

“I am the Queen of the Angels!” she cried from her makeshift bed. “All of the demons can just get in line for me to buck them back to Tartarus! My father’s waiting for me in Tartarus,” she confided to the imaginary pony to her right. “That’s what Mother told me. Seek out Uncle Bernie in Booth Number 9—he’s the one that looked like he’s dead.” She laughed uproariously for a few seconds, then suddenly cut herself off. “Nopony ever told me why that was supposed to be funny.”

Celestia raised a forehoof, her ears pivoting wildly.

“Firebelle...maybe you should speak to your minions more quietly,” Midnight pleaded in a whisper, her heat-stained and mottled dagger raising itself into the air once more.

“No lousy minions tell me what to do!” Firebelle declared, punctuating her remark by punching the sky with her forehoof. “Oh,” she said quietly. “I appear to have torn something.”

Midnight heard it now. It sounded like the rattle of a rattlesnake...only from a significantly larger creature.

This time, Celestia knew exactly what they were about to encounter. “Close your eyes!” she ordered.

Midnight wrapped her forehoof over the eyes of her former boss, as she closed her own tightly. “Be quiet, be still. Please, Firebelle, everything will be okay.”

“Yes, yes, but somepony needs to refill this ketchup bottle—the stuff is simply everywhere!”

Celestia risked opening an eye to check in Firebelle, and was utterly dismayed. She had somehow managed to re-open nearly all of her wounds, and was now bleeding uncontrollably. “Midnight,” she said with reluctance. “Let her look.”

The unicorn whimpered, and slowly removed her hoof. “There...I’m not opening my eyes. I’m not...” She felt the warm and wet fur under her foreleg turn to stone.

The unicorn began to cry, leaning heavily against the cart as she reached out with her magic, trying to “feel” her way around, trying to confirm what she was facing and where it was.

The thing was slowly circling them, its location specified by the rattle from its tail and the scrape of its scales against the pebbles in the underbrush.

Celestia waited until the creature was right behind her, and then bucked. There was a whooshing sound as something flew through the air. It landed hard, and then the creature could be heard retreating, its rattle silenced. “There,” she said, opening her eyes. “We’re safe now.” She quickly covered over the face of Firebelle with her blanket, to keep her permanently deranged expression from being seen.

“She’s dead...” Midnight whispered, stumbling back. “I killed her...I let her die...”

Hope reared up to put a hoof on either side of the unicorn’s withers. “Midnight, Midnight! Listen to me! She is not dead.”

“But I’ve never been able to unpetrify...I’ve never even met somepony who could...only adventurers, and they...” She looked at the stone limbs sticking out. “There’s not enough...we don’t have enough bits for the cure...”

“We’re taking her to the settlement. They have to have the cure, and...I know where we can get enough bits to pay for it.” The pony before Midnight seemed utterly confident of these two facts. “You don’t seed a pony-testing environment with cockatrices otherwise. They couldn’t call it fair otherwise. Deathtrap the Everfree might be, but the appearance of fairness must remain, or nopony would ever go to the Inn again.”

“Okay...okay.” Midnight took a bunch of deep breaths, and looked around. “Cockatrice...I can’t believe you defeated one...N...not because of you’re an earth pony or any...just, anypony defeating one,” she clarified.

Celestia thought it best not to mention that she used to have a cockatrice as a pet when she was a teenager.

From the forest, the pair of ponies emerged into a small glen. After the last forest opening they had encountered, they were on high alert.

It was therefore all the more stressful for them when absolutely nothing happened.

The glen led into some low hills.

After an hour of travel, this led in turn into some hilly forest. From the highest hill, they espied a large castle, which had obviously seen better times. Some of the roofs had collapsed, leaving the rooms open to the elements.

Celestia stood and stared at the Castle of the Two Sisters for quite some time, lost in her memories.

Midnight looked at the castle quietly, eyes narrowing and something occupying her thoughts. She then turned back to the cart and opened the small barrel to a small pop of compressed gas, checking something and adding more chemicals while ignoring a slowly rising cloud of yellowish smoke.

Hope blinked a couple of times and looked over at what Midnight was doing. She waited patiently until she was done. “Follow me.”

The two ponies walked through a partially collapsed doorway into the castle. A wide hallway led to a grand staircase, above which hung two banners, one with the moon and a blue winged unicorn, the other with the sun and a white winged unicorn. Wide arches on either side led to either more staircases or open rooms.

The ceiling of the hallway was mostly missing, and the late afternoon sunlight poured into the building, nurturing the growth of small shrubs that broke up the stonework of the floor. Hope stretched forth a single hoof into the area of sunlight inside the castle, and abruptly changed direction, heading to the wall and hugging it tightly as she slinked along the wall.

It was the eyes that Celestia had felt, not just of one god but of dozens, perhaps hundreds, all focusing their animosity upon her castle, as if they assumed that she would blithely walk right in in her native form. She didn’t bother to warn Midnight, as she had seen that she was apparently immune to the feeling of divine scrutiny...

Except this time. The unicorn stopped in the middle of the sunlight, and looked around her with some confusion. “What? What?” she asked herself quietly. She slowly and cautiously turned her head upwards, and began to tremble, before suddenly dashing over to be beside Hope. “What was that?” she demanded.

“Magic?” Hope suggested guilelessly.

Midnight scowled. “The act’s getting old,” she said. “Why are we here?”

“Haven’t you heard the stories? There’s always lost treasures hidden in ruins like this. Maybe we’ll get lucky.”

Midnight narrowed her eyes in suspicion, but said nothing.

#

A few minutes later found them in the castle’s library. Hope was looking at one wall of books, while Midnight scanned another. An unnerving patch of sunlight separated them.

“Try pulling on the books or something,” Hope suggested.

Midnight rolled her eyes and poked a book, and then another one. Eventually, she started getting interested in the titles on the spines and started pulling a few out to get a better look.

Celestia walked up to one specific spot on her side of the library, pulled two books out with her teeth, and put them back in each other’s places. This caused the bookcase in front of Midnight to pivot outwards, revealing itself as a door.

“Ooh, good find!” Hope exclaimed.

Behind the door were a set of rickety wooden shelves. Resting on one was a cloth sack filled to bulging with what seemed to be freshly minted bits. Midnight peeked inside the sack, to see that they were some sort of commemorative issue, with an image of the sun on one face and one of the moon on the other. Curiously, the moon image was missing its Mare, possessing instead a random speckling of craters.

The next thing Midnight noticed was that the shelves were so poorly constructed that she could see through them to a boarded-over room behind it. She lit up her horn and leaned towards one of the knotholes to get a better look.

The room was painted in a soft yellow pastel, with images of foals and baby animals painted along the top of the wall as a border. A sun with a pony’s face looked down kindly from the ceiling at the ruins of a crushed piece of furniture.

“Is this...it couldn’t be...Princess Celestia’s personal spaces...?” She began to try and pry some of the boards off to get a better look.

The inexplicable feeling from before came back in full force. Greater and greater the feeling grew.

On the floor just inside the room, Midnight spied a small metallic object, set with gems. It looked like a foal’s charm bracelet. It was customary to engrave a child’s name on the bracelet once a name was bestowed, but as near as she could tell, the stones of this bracelet were blank.

Midnight’s attempt to take the bracelet was blocked by an overwhelming pressure in her head. The word “blasphemer” seemed to repeat itself in her head, again and again, in a chorus of echoing voices. She dropped the bracelet, and the pressure abated, but only somewhat. She turned around to ask Hope for help, but found that the room was abandoned.

Things only returned to normal in Midnight’s head when she left the castle. There, she found Hope waiting for her, turned so that she couldn’t look at her.

“Do you have any idea what that place was?” she asked.

“A most calamitous distraction,” Hope said bitterly. She refused to say anything else until they were away from the ruins.

Behind the castle was a large flat area. Midnight speculated that it may have once been used for ceremonies, back when the castle itself was actually in use. But then something awful appeared to have happened to it. The remains of small buildings circling the area were just that—remains. Areas of the ground were blackened. Some ornamental trees looked like they had been turned to stone. There was even some kind of indescribable mass of granite conglomerate that may have once been a vast wave of water before being suddenly transformed into its present form by magic.

Magic was the one thing that Midnight sensed more than anything else. So much concentrated yet chaotic magic that it nearly made it impossible for her to use any of her conventional senses. As a result, she stumbled about as if she were drunk.

Hope, seeming to know instantly what was wrong, walked over and hooked one foreleg under Midnight’s, guiding her through the wasteland, and around the only unbroken statue in the entire area.

Being unbroken, however, didn’t provide any clue to Midnight as to the strange bipedal creature’s identity. Perhaps he was a nonsense character out of a filly’s play—after all, he appeared to be caught in the act of singing some sort of song.

“I hurt...” Midnight muttered, looking up at the statue. Something in her twisted, and she quickly looked away. “What...?” She looked confused as though struck with an odd impulse. “What were your parents like?”

“Not here!” Hope replied, quivering with fear. “I swear I’ll answer any question, but not here!” Her ears perked up as she heard the sounds of pony voices not too far away. “Everhold!”

“Yes...everything will be okay...” Midnight muttered. “Why...all these questions I want to ask but don’t...they’re growing quieter.”

A few steps more, and the spell was broken. The statue seemed a bit disappointed, but He bided His time, as He had for so long and would for so much longer.

“Wow,” Hope said quietly, looking over the packed tent village of Everhold. “What a wretched, wretched place.” It reminded her of a hive, but out of respect for the Bees, she decided not to say this out loud. “Let’s see...healer’s tent, healer’s tent…”

“Wait, Hope...” Midnight had stopped and bit her lip, looking at the cart. “What if...we waited? Until we were near to the Inn? We could tell her that she was hallucinating, but fought her way through...”

“That’s assuming the cure is a potion that we can give her at any time,” said Celestia. “My impression was that it was a bath. We can’t transport a bath, nor do I believe that we would be allowed to.”

Midnight cringed. “Yes. Of course, sorry. Let’s go get her healed.” Something had definitely changed in her relationship with the mysterious earth pony since the battle with the lizard monsters. It was like Hope had partially dropped her veil...or Midnight had started figuring out how to see through it. She wondered who, precisely, the true Hope Springs actually was.

Two ponies in white robes waited at the entrance to the village. To anypony willing to approach them, they handed out a necklace with a plain round disk attached. They looked to be constructed of repurposed scrap metal. Next to them was a banner hung from a rod. It seemed to be done in something between tempera and watercolor, and showed a tall white pony seen from the ground, ridiculously bloated by foreshortening. The coal black hooves were the most evident, but by the time of the pony’s barrel, it had become a hopelessly confused mess. It was hard to tell if the pony even had a head, much less what breed it was or anything about its mane.

“And what is this, good sir?” Hope asked, allowing the pony to drape the chain around her neck. Midnight saw her looking at the black hooves on the poster with a sense of foreboding.

The pony leaned forward, speaking just barely loud enough for her and Midnight to hear. “It is a memento of the Forsaken Goddess, for the Forsaken Village of Everhold.”

“Do you mean Celes—?” Midnight tried to ask, before being silenced by the priest’s hoof.

“The gods have ears,” the robed pony warned, “and certain names when spoken invoke their wrath.”

One of Midnight’s ears flicked upwards, the only sign of the direction that she was then thinking of. “I’ll take one of your charms,” she said calmly.

The pair made their way into the village. The buildings they passed were decorated with black bunting, and signs depicting the Mare in the Moon were set up outside each one.

Midnight did some mental calculations. “Oh hay, it is Nightmare Night,” she concluded. “I had completely forgotten.”

Hope seemed to slump. She walked down the middle of the street with the cart in tow, trying not to make eye contact with anypony or anything. Midnight followed, wondering.

Around them, fillies and colts dressed up as some of the very monsters would-be adventurers would have to face the next day capered around them. The mares and stallions watched good-naturedly as they passed, then discreetly checked to make sure that none of the rapscallions had just succeeded in picking their saddlebags. Nopony spared even a glance at the stone pony poorly concealed beneath a small blue blanket in the cart.

Soon, Hope and Midnight saw a sign with an arrow underneath a red cross symbol. Further signs with the same symbol led them to their destination, and a short line to get into the Healing Tent.

“Let me handle the price negotiations,” said Midnight. “At least that’s something I know I’m good at. Besides, we did just gain a hefty bit of gold back...well...” She trailed off, suddenly unwilling to talk about the castle.

“Alright,” said Hope. As space was getting rather crowded as the injured and their friends waited to be cured, she stepped back a bit to get out of everypony’s way.

Slowly, each party made their way into the tent, then emerged. In cases where the injury was minor, a fully healed patient emerged with their companions. In more serious cases, the companion emerged alone, while ponies in white robes moved the ailing pony out of the back of the small tent on a stretcher and into one of the few permanent buildings in the encampment, there to be cared for until they were well enough to leave.

Celestia strongly suspected that with the full extent of Firebelle’s injuries, she was almost certainly going to end up in one of those buildings, and so kept a close watch on the back of the tent after Midnight had asked one of the robed ponies to help her bring the petrified pony inside.

Several minutes passed, significantly longer than had been taken by any pony so far. Celestia noticed that some ponies were now staring at her, with disapproving expressions. She looked carefully around her to see if there was any obvious cause to their displeasure, lightly stepping between the large rocks that littered the area where she was standing.

Before her, the full moon was just then cresting the tops of the Everfree trees. It was a red sunset, and the moon was faintly tinted the color of blood. The face of the Mare stared down in judgment at Celestia, at her actions, and most importantly, at her inactions.

Out of the corner of one eye, she saw some of the attendants taking Firebelle, still petrified, into the largest of the many buildings. Midnight emerged a moment later from the front entrance, her head bowed.

Hope tried to step forward to join her. She was stopped by a foreign hoof jabbed in her chest.

“What do you think you’re doing?!” a large orange unicorn stallion demanded.

“Excuse me?” Hope asked.

“Do you think this is some kind of joke, prancing around on sacred ground?” the offended pony said, getting up in her face.

“I’m sorry,” Hope said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Look,” the stallion said, pointing down to the ground at her hooves.

Hope looked, and then leapt out of the area straight towards Midnight.

The unicorn backed up slightly, glancing over at where she came from with quite a bit of apathy. She then turned to the orange pony. “She did not know. Now we both know. Thank you for your assistance.” With that short statement, she then turned back toward the area they had parked the cart. “Come on,” she addressed her earth pony companion. “We have—why are you crying?”

Hope was standing where she had landed, her back to the spot where she had been before, tears welling in her eyes.

Over her shoulder, Midnight could still see the “forbidden ground”, or whatever it was. It was a small circular area, blackened with nearly a hoof’s width of debris, made up of equal parts charcoal and rock fragments. Numerous rough holes were bored into the rock, at various depths.

Midnight looked curiously up at the sky. This was the site of a lightning strike—no, make that hundreds if not thousands of concentrated lightning strikes. Faintly visible in the uniform blackness of the circle were four light gray circles. “What...what happened here?” Midnight asked.

“This is Traitor’s Rock, the place where Equestria’s enemies were brought in the old days to stand judgment,” the orange unicorn explained. “It is also the spot where the Forsaken Goddess was taken up to be judged by the gods. And anypony who says it happened in Redfern is a gods-forsaken liar!”

Midnight looked back down at this small spot. In her fillyhood, she had imagined that a legendary heroine might be taken up to her divine reward by a single bolt of lightning, not the fierce barrage that must have taken place here. “No pony could have survived this!” she exclaimed.

Hope looked at her, and shook her head, her eyes twin pools of nearly inexhaustible sadness. “Alicorns can’t die by their own magic,” she whispered.

Chapter 14: The Truth, and Its Consequences

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Chapter 15: Everypony Should Believe in Something

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 15: Everypony Should Believe in Something

The next morning, Midnight and Hope, their relations radically altered since the previous morning, made their way to the communal mess hall, and paid far too much for a couple of lumps of greasy slop.

They then joined a group of mostly enthusiastic ponies waiting in front of a wooden placard which had an outline of the Castle of the Two Sisters drawn upon it in charcoal. It had been stapled in front of an old wanted poster.

The chief exception to the “mostly enthusiastic” rule consisted of a middle-aged gray earth pony stallion, of greater than average girth that was barely contained behind a faded gray coat and shirt front. The end of his muzzle was red and rounder than that of an average stallion. He was wearing spectacles and a straw hat, carried a bamboo cane, and had apparently forgotten to shave the stubble off his face that morning. The scowl upon his face looked to be perpetual, or perhaps caused by him being dragged here at such a relatively early hour by his wife, an equally large brown earth pony mare in a plain red dress.

“Where in Equestria is that tour guide?” she asked loudly to anypony willing to answer.

“Probably fortifying himself to face the masses,” answered the husband, his back to her. From his coat he pulled a long corked bottle full of a clear liquid. From his pocket he removed a corkscrew, and in a matter of seconds he had started drinking from it.

His wife, seeing this, promptly snatched bottle and corkscrew away from him. “Water Cooler!” she exclaimed. “Show some self-control!”

“I exercise extreme self-control, my little turtledove!” the stallion protested. “I never drink anything stronger than a salty dog before breakfast.”

“Now you behave yourself,” the wife warned, “while I go off to do some important business.” She then went off to exchange gossip with a bunch of other mares.

“I swear that mare would drop dead of apoplexy if she ever contracted laryngitis,” the stallion observed. Then he produced another bottle and corkscrew. “Everypony should believe in something,” he said to nopony in particular. “I believe I shall have another drink.”

Celestia, highly amused by all of this, decided to continue to observe the gray stallion.

After a few moments of leaning back and forth on his cane, the stallion surreptitiously used it to lift the placard and look at the wanted poster underneath. This turned out to be none other than the same poster that Prince Blueblood had prepared for Midnight. The stallion gave a double-take as he compared the poster to the dark unicorn standing obliviously right next to him.

Hope nudged Midnight and pointed.

Midnight face-hooved.

The gray stallion snickered, and let the placard fall back on top of the poster. “Fifty bits?” he asked himself. “I wouldn’t sell out my mother-in-law for fifty bits! Now a hundred, on the other hoof...”

Not too far away were a pair of unicorns, mother and daughter, with matching mint green coats and light blue frilly dresses. The mother was attempting to keep up with the perpetual stream of gossip pouring out of the brown earth pony’s mouth.

“Are we going to the castle?” the filly asked her mother. As she said this, she kept pronking up and down on her hooves.

“Yes, Dear,” the mother answered patiently, only half-listening.

“When are we leaving?” the filly asked.

“Soon.”

“How soon?”

The mother sighed. “Soon.”

Not getting the answer she wanted, the filly turned to a nearby white pegasus. She was listening politely to the gossip, but at a safe distance so that nopony would accidentally notice her. “Hey! Hey Miss!” the filly said, tapping the mare on one leg. “Do you know when we’re leaving for the castle?”

“Oh...I’m not really sure,” the mare said quietly, trying to retreat from her behind an oversized sun hat.

The filly found a third target, the gray stallion. “Do you know when we’re leaving, Mister?”

“Go away kid, you bother me,” the stallion growled at her.

“I’m not a goat, I’m a pony!” the filly enthusiastically corrected him.

The stallion went through the motions of adjusting his spectacles, and stepped back in mock surprise. “Well, so you are!” he exclaimed. “You sure bleat like a goat, though.”

“I like him!” Hope declared brightly to Midnight.

A unicorn stallion pushed his way through the crowd. “Excuse me, pardon me,” he said curtly, not really meaning the polite words he was saying. “Now then, is this the group for the morning Castle of the Two Sisters tour?”

Various members of the group nodded.

“Very good! I shall be your tour guide, Mr. Shine. Now, if we’ve collected my fee…”

Most of the adults in the crowd tried to act as if they had, in fact, already paid for the tour.

“I didn’t pay!” the filly loudly declared.

The earth pony stallion shook a hoof menacingly in the filly’s direction.

“Oh hush, Water Cooler!” urged the stallion’s brown earth pony wife, who had finally rejoined him. The first thing she had done was take away his bottle and corkscrew.

“I saw a wanted poster last night for a pony guilty of perjury, theft, and cheating at cards,” Water Cooler muttered under his breath. “But it said that he hated chatty fillies, so he couldn’t have been all bad.”

Meanwhile, the unicorn guide had produced a wooden cup, and went around collecting two bits from each of the tourists.

And then, finally, the group set out from Everhold.

#

The moment the group entered the castle, they felt the same oppressive effect that Midnight and Celestia felt a day earlier. The guide brushed it off as an “ancient protection spell—nothing to worry about.”

“Famous last words,” Water Cooler told the others with a wink.

The group spent less than five minutes in the library before the guide ushered them along into the “Gem Room”.

Said room was of course utterly devoid of any gems, but that didn’t stop Mr. Shine from spending nearly an hour pointing to every spot where a gem was, and describing its history and supposed fate in exhausting detail. The stream of words was so inexhaustible that not even the gray stallion could get a word in edgewise. By the time they finished, the feeling of being stared at had completely faded away. Celestia’s considered opinion was that the tour guide was just so boring that it exhausted even the infinite patience of the gods.

Water Cooler’s wife caught him using another bottle and corkscrew to while away the time, which she also confiscated. “I swear! They wouldn’t let you get away with this sort of thing in Rockville.”

“I spent a year in Rockville once,” Water Cooler lamented. “I think it was on a Maresday.”

Mr. Shine led the group into the next room, which contained the castle’s collection of Classical Era wall tapestries.

“Here we see a depiction of the frigid north!” the guide announced, hitting the tapestry dramatically with one hoof.

The tapestry toppled to the ground.

The guide looked down at it, nudging it nervously with one hoof.

“Again! Again!” cried the little unicorn filly.

“I remember visiting the frigid north once, selling toilet plungers to the ice ponies,” Water Cooler said, smoothly stepping into the role of replacement tour guide. “I lost all of my corkscrews.” He looked off in the distance as he contemplated the most horrible of fates: “I had to live on nothing but food and fresh water for days.”

“O...over here we have a Maretesian grid pattern,” Mr. Shine declared, walking over to another tapestry.

Most of the ponies stayed with Water Cooler.

Celestia and Midnight took this moment to sneak away. Celestia took a moment to look back at Water Cooler.

“Never give a sucker an even break,” he declared, expounding his philosophy of life. “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. No use being a foal about it.”

“I’m going to miss that stallion,” she said sadly as she walked away.

“Why?” asked an incredulous Midnight, walking beside her. “If he were in your government, he’d completely wreck it in less than a week!”

“Exactly,” she replied. “He’s the kind of pony I’d never possibly meet as myself. I love government, but after a few centuries, you need a little variety!”

#

Celestia entered the library, and looked around. “Alright, the books on rune magic are on the second floor,” she said. “Hopefully, the staircase in here is still sound, otherwise we’d have to navigate through a rather elaborate series of passages.” She pointed over at a spiral staircase, varnished in black. It looked a little lopsided.

“Well, if you fall you just...I don’t know, ascend in pixie dust? You go first. I’ll follow you up,” Midnight offered, turning to keep an back eye on the others to make sure they wouldn’t follow.

Celestia looked regretfully at her rump. “Very well,” she said, “although I’m undoubtedly the heavier of us two.” Cautiously, she put one hoof on the lowest step, and started climbing. The structure creaked a great deal, but didn’t actually change shape any further, which was a good sign. “Alright,” she finally said, leaning over a railing, “I made it up.”

Midnight wondered what was going through the god pony’s head. It was obvious which of the two of them was heavier. Perhaps she was just so used to being a towering alicorn. “Okay, coming on up.”

Midnight didn’t take the stairs slowly, she rather took the approach of walking up as though she had somewhere important to be, hoping that it would have collapsed under the earth pony it if it were intended to collapse at all.

The second floor of the library was quite obviously almost never visited. Numerous books had fallen out of the shelves and onto the floor, and piles of dust were simply everywhere. In one corner, under the bare sky, the books looked as if they had been magically bleached, having pale covers and, in the books that had fallen open on the floor, what appeared to be blank pages.

Luckily for Midnight, that was not the section that Celestia was leading her to. A row back from the balcony, she stopped and pointed. “They should be about halfway down that row, on both sides. Most of the books lean towards the artistic side, made by ponies that couldn’t even read runes. But I’m pretty sure there are a few useful works in there.”

“Excellent...you don’t wish to accompany me? I feel a bit odd rooting around in your library after all.”

Celestia raised a hoof, about to deliver a perfectly reasonable explanation of impossibly wide objects in impossibly small spaces. Her mouth opened, as she looked from one bookcase to the other. Then she looked down at herself. “Oh, alright,” she said, and walked into the narrow space, her eyes darting carefully from one wall to the next. “Let’s see...none of those yellow ones...oh, they look at lot different at this angle...this one, and maybe...no, this one, and these three over here.” She stopped with a brief look of confusion on her face at the fact that there were no books currently floating behind her. “Oh, right, no horn.” She began removing the books one by one with her hooves. “You know, as long as I was in completely unfamiliar places, I had no problem remembering my current breed, honest.”

“Well...if you need a horn to use I’ll lend you mine. That is what friends do, right?”

The soft statement would almost be ordinary for any less proud pony, and a cerulean glow wrapped around the books to carry them delicately at Hope’s side.

“Thank you,” Celestia replied with a wide smile. An instant later, her lips were pursed. “You didn’t see that,” she said. “I’m grateful, but you didn’t see that.”

“I didn’t see what?”

“I’ve got...agfflksml,” Celestia mumbled.

“What?”

“I’ve got a goofy looking smile, alright? Just another reason to be polite and restrained in public.”

Midnight shook her head incredulously. “Your smile is delightful...miraculous, even. Ohthislooksnice...” With a blush, she added a book she spied to the pile. “You really should do it more.”

“I had to be a lot more careful as a princess,” Celestia admitted. “Ponies had a habit of treating a stray barrel scratch as a sign of omniversal import.”

Midnight sighed, and lowered the pile of floating books to look Hope over again. “This still feels like I’m about to wake up from a mushroom fueled dream.”

Celestia’s eyes flicked around her, and she smiled, much more cautiously than last time. “My dreams are much crazier than this. Mushrooms or no mushrooms. I mean, nopony’s manes have even burst into flame yet. No, wait, Firefly. Maybe this is a dream.” She was trying really hard to not laugh.

“Oh no, if this is a dream, than I fear you may have some very repressed feelings for the Inn, being so focused on it. I mean really what god or goddess would be so obsessed with the cycle of adventure?”

Hope raised one eyebrow. The look would have been utterly devastating coming from an alicorn. Trying it on a pony taller than herself however...not so much. “Should I just put the books back?” she asked dryly.

“Nono, sorry...I should continue calling you Hope, yes? Not your majesty? I’ll call you whatever you want if you’re saving my flank from the mess I’ve found myself in.”

Midnight began carefully stacking the books into her bag.

Celestia shook her head. “Hope is fine. Using a title’s inevitably going to get awkward in public. And besides, I don’t exactly rule anything right now. Oh, and you won’t be able to take those books out of the library. It’s part of the enchantment that kept most of them from decaying from exposure to the elements.”

“Oh...right.”

After pulling them back out, Midnight sat down at a nearby desk and began flipping studiously through the first few, sorting them into neat piles with the organizational prowess of a true student. She did stay nearly entirely silent though.

Celestia spent the time strolling through the aisles, seeming to pick books to look at more for the color of their spines than their subject matter. “Heh, heh...okapi jokes,” she was heard to say to herself at one point.

“Here we go...Hope, come look at this.”

Midnight had separated two books from the rest, both heavier volumes full of detailed diagrams. They were opened to pages with specific circles and runes described in detail.

“This one here is designed to turn magical energy into...lightning? I think that’s what it says, the phrasing is a bit odd. But then this other one would try and siphon the energy back into a waiting font, being myself.” She looked up to Hope with a nervous smile. “So, shall I try to overflow myself with magical energy, or become a lightning rod?”

Celestia looked around at the other books. “Well, I wouldn’t recommend the lightning rune’s use around combustible materials, especially enchanted ones. The other one might be slightly safer, with the universal dispel on hoof.” Come to think of it, she thought, wasn’t the universal dispel invented by a Sparkle?

“Then I shall commit that one to memory and duplicate it,” declared Midnight. The unicorn set to painstakingly recreating the rune on a piece of parchment she had brought, using a well-loved quill and small vial of ink.

Celestia and Midnight managed to sneak back into the truncated tour group without their absence being detected. They were still in the Tapestry Room, after all. It was perhaps unsurprising then that Water Cooler’s group was nowhere in evidence. Celestia guessed that they were probably back in town, drinking.

Meanwhile, having spoken of the only two subjects he was at all interested in—gems and tapestries—Mr. Shine rushed the group through the rest of the rooms. (“Up there is the second floor. Nothing interesting ever happened there.”) Finally, a couple of hours before sunset, they returned to Everhold.

“Please,” the unicorn pleaded with them. “Don’t tell anypony what happened, or I’ll never get to give a tour again!”

The green filly, who had been forced to go with him instead of Water Cooler, put on a scowl of displeasure that was remarkably like the grey stallion’s. “I’m gonna tell!” she promised.

Celestia started to laugh, then quickly pulled Midnight aside right before they could be trampled by an armored party that entered the town right behind them.

“Hey!” bellowed the voice of Vaya Con Dios. “Where in the Seven Hells can I find a healer?!”

Walking close enough to the two mares to breathe on them if they only turned their heads, three of the four adventurers who had so impressed themselves into Celestia’s memory trod by in a seeming funeral procession: Swipe the Thief, Torchlit the Wizard, and Vaya Con Dios the Cleric. Held high above them by Vaya’s magic was a large woolen blanket, on which was supported the body of a large pony. By a process of elimination, this could be none other than the group’s leader, Soul Cleaver. There was something wrong with the way the body was resting on the blanket, with some large object up there that was rolling, back and forth, back and forth.

“I think I may be sick,” Celestia said.

“I don’t think a healer is going to fix what ails that pony,” Water Cooler remarked, walking by in the background.

“It’s an adventurer, I’ll bet his spirit is being welcomed into his own little paradise,” Midnight said with a dour smile. “May his journey and reception be swift...”

“And may they never discover that little Hope Springs is standing right behind them, for they have promised upon her a most righteous pounding,” Celestia added in a low voice, a smirk upon her lips. “Amen.” She still hadn’t forgiven Swipe for his sick little insinuations of what he would have done to her her if his fellow adventurers didn’t prefer her alive and sane.

“You’ve crossed a group of adventurers already? And they are still living?” Midnight asked as she led them down the path quite a ways behind the armed and armored group.

“If I still had my ‘smiting stick’, I’d still be on the throne,” Celestia quipped. “Let’s pick someplace as unposh as possible tonight, and hope they don’t decide to ‘slum it.’”

The unicorn sighed, looking around at the path they traveled through.

“This whole place gives me a sinking feeling of dread. I wonder if it was designed that way, or if it’s an effect of all those who die here.”

“Just desperation, sadly,” Celestia remarked, her steps slowing. “This is the last safe place that many of these ponies will ever...wait, I just have to know.” She turned around, and headed back into the crowd, returning before Midnight had even made up her mind to follow.

The earth pony had a dissatisfied frown on her face. “They must have been joking me when I asked the bystanders what sort of beast could have taken down their large—and very physically impressive—leader.”

“Oh?” Midnight simply asked.

“Yes. Dire’s just a name, so how bad could a mere bunny be?”

Midnight’s laughter carried them all the way to their inn.

Chapter 16: Village of the Polearms

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 16: Village of the Polearms

At Celestia’s request, Midnight did a careful survey of the area, and determined that the group once led by Soul Cleaver was not anywhere near the path that led out of Everhold. The pair had redistributed their holdings, bought a few more, and had picked out the safest looking path on Firebelle’s map. Hope had left apologetic messages with both the healers and the keepers of the major inns, for when the pegasus finally recovered enough to be furious at them for abandoning her.

“I doubt she will care. At least about that,” Midnight mused while pulling the cart along the well trotted path. “She’s more likely to be upset about the gold that we are taking with us.”

“She can take me to court afterwards,” Celestia commented with a straight face. “I always lose my civil suits.”

“I think that’d be quite a spectacle. Save the world only to have a...well, an oddly determined adventurer demand that you pay up a hunk of gold.”

“She’s not an adventurer yet. Fates allow, she never will be.”

The path they started with doubled back to the Castle of the Two Sisters. After circling it to its western side, they set out into the woods.

Midnight stuck to the cart, though several times having to ask Hope to pull it, due to fatigue and her complete lack of experience regarding manual labor. But she did her best to ensure that she did not treat Hope as “just an earth pony.”

They walked through the loosely spaced trees for an hour, and then came up against a solid wall of brush.

“Uh oh,” Celestia said. “I don’t think that was on the map.”

“Well, how would we know we were traveling if we did not run into obstacles along the way?” Midnight asked rhetorically. She then craned her head from side to side, examining the wall as best she could from the cart hitch. “It doesn’t look like an illusion, though that is usually the point I guess. Try kicking a rock through.”

Celestia’s rock went right through the bush, with about the amount of resistance that you’d expect from a large, untrimmed mass of vegetation.

Midnight looked at the large hole, and then back at Celestia.

“Did I kick it too hard?” Celestia asked.

“Not at all, you kicked it just the right amount. So from memory let me see what it could be...assassin vines would be a bit much for us—the forest wouldn’t throw it at us so early on. Could be mundane, but I don’t think it’s that friendly. There could be a creature in there...” Midnight continued on, more providing information about various plants than trying to figure out a way through.

Celestia looked around. The path they had been following turned left, quite obviously leading back to Everhold. Turning right would be heading the wrong way. The earth pony squared her shoulders and walked up to the bush. She pushed forwards, and the vegetation cleared, but not without some resistance. “Come on,” she said. “I’ve heard of earth ponies doing this, but I’ve never had the chance of trying it myself.” She smiled to herself. “I think this counts as casting a spell. Never thought I’d have the chance to get to do that while looking like this.”

“That is...genuinely impressive. Bravo, Hope!”

After cheering her companion along, Midnight pulled the cart through. With her side vision, she saw the bush closing slowly behind them.

Slowly, the pair made their way through the thickets.

“One advantage,” Celestia remarked, conserving her words. “Hard for animal attacks...here.”

“Thorns,” was Midnight’s only reply, gritting her teeth as her delicate coat gained a few thin lines of red despite both ponies doing their best to keep the path wide enough for the cart.

“Sorry,” said Celestia. She concentrated, and the bits of angry vegetation seemed to withdraw a little.

The pair walked on, but the rough vegetation continued, on and on. Hours after hours after hours, like they had entered the holy grounds of the God of Annoying Brambles. Finally, finally, as the afternoon was nearing its end, they finally emerged from the bush and into…

“A swamp,” Celestia noted flatly. “Another swamp.”

With a groan, Midnight detached herself from the wagon, wedged a rock behind its wheel to keep it in place, and leaned her head against it. “Hornrot,” she muttered to herself. “We can’t fight in this state, and we can’t afford to leave all of this behind.”

Celestia lowered herself down on her side, and panted a little as she tried to recover her strength. “Maybe,” she said. “Maybe if we don’t make...any sudden moves, we can rest a bit.”

Midnight didn’t reply, but she instead took a few gulps of water from her canteen and stood tall, looking around through the surrounding area, trying to see something, anything that she hadn’t spotted a moment ago.

...Like that thin plume of smoke that was rising from behind a suspiciously geometric circle of tall trees, a circle that blocked a five-hundred stride space from view.

“Hope. Quietly, what is that?” She asked, pointing with a hoof.

Hope looked. She closed her eyes, slowly took in a couple of deep breaths, and then opened them and stood up, looking refreshed. “Village,” she said. “That would be my guess.”

“Do we sneak in or go in openly?” Midnight asked while hitching herself back up.

“We take a peek,” said Celestia. “And decide after that.”

“Okay, so...no cart?” Midnight asked, stopped in an awkward position.

Celestia turned her head. “Oh right. The cart. Here, let me see if I can push it back in.” She waited until Midnight had unhitched herself, and then put her forehooves against the front of the cart, slowly pushing it backward. Just like with pegasus magic, Celestia was able to push her vegetation-parting ability through the vehicle, and smoothly pushed it until it was completely out of sight. “There,” she said. “Worst case, we can always come back for it.”

“Good, now onwards to hopefully not dying!” Midnight said with a chipper tone, as they started towards the hidden area.

#

On the other side of the tree barrier, a small village lay nestled in a depression. The buildings were made of wood, with some stone. Other than the buildings looking a little repetitive, and taller than the average pony habitation, the town could have come straight out of the more peaceful parts of Equestria.

But not the inhabitants. Like the lizard creatures, these too were bipeds. Onto a similar body plan, the following changes had been implemented: Instead of being mostly green, they were mostly brown. Instead of being covered with scales under their clothing, they were covered with coarse fur. And instead of having heads resembling those of lizards, these heads were clearly porcine in inspiration.

A clear contrast with their last encounter came in the matter of number. Before, there had been seven lizard creatures. Here, the number was not so easily countable. Dozens, more than a hundred, two hundred? Well, less than five hundred at any rate. From facial shape and mane styles, the two hundred inhabitants could be split evenly into males, females, and children. The children in particular ran around everywhere, many of them without clothing. The adults by and large seemed to ignore them.

In the center of the village was a large raised stage, big enough for fifty of the pig creatures to stand comfortably. A large crowd, consisting of most of the village, was gathered in front of this stage, clearly waiting for something to happen. With the exception of the children, every member of this crowd was armed. Armament seemed to be a way to distinguish class between these creatures, even more so than clothing. Circulating through the crowd was one group of about a dozen creatures with spears. They were shaking their weapons and chanting, rousing the crowd into greater and greater displays of excitement. Random creatures began jumping in the air, or shaking their arms above their heads. Another group of a dozen rabble-rousers were doing similar work at the other end of the crowd, these ones armed with axes.

The common pig creatures, the ones that didn’t bear spears or axes, were all holding polearms. And what a variety of polearms were on display! There were pikes, spetums, ranseurs, partisans (including Boremian earspoons!), poleaxes, halberds, bardiches, pole cleavers, voulges, fauchards, glaives, guisarmes, bills, bill hooks, military forks, Moocern hammers, bec de corbins, glaive-forks, fauchard-forks...well, the point is, they had a lot of polearms.

Finally, a curtain at the back of the stage was parted, and an exceptionally tall pig creature strode onto the stage, wearing a dark blue suit. In one hand he held an axe, and in the other a spear. He held the spear aloft, and the group that had been encouraged by the spear-pigs broke out in raucous hoots of approval. Behind him, eighteen pig creatures in dark suits with black sunglasses moved into position, turning their heads right and left as they silently scanned the crowd. Each of them carried smaller versions of the same armaments as their leader.

From another spot in the curtain then emerged a second tall pig creature, this one in a tan suit. He was armed with an axe and a loaded crossbow, and when he raised and shook his axe, the axe-pigs roared their approval. Like the other leader, this one too was accompanied by eighteen black-suited guards with glasses and weapons matching their boss.

“Ladies and gentleorcs,” the one in the blue suit said, easily addressing the crowd with an intimidating voice. “I welcome you all, to the Twenty-Eighth Presidential election for the Blood Hand Tribe!”

The crowd shouted their excitement.

The speaker handed his axe to an aide, and then gestured at the tan suited creature. “My challenger here thinks that he can do a better job of leading you than I can. What do you think?”

Vocal pandemonium broke out in the crowd. Unprintable insults were hurled from one side to the other. Those in the middle began trying to kill each other with their polearms, which only went to demonstrate how useless polearms were in tightly packed crowds.

“Under my respected opponent’s rule,” the challenger began, “the number of adventurer disembowelments dropped by nearly twenty-seven percent! Is this any way to run an orc tribe?”

“NO!” shouted half the crowd.

The other half attempted to shout back excuses.

That never works.

“Well, it appears that the electorate is evenly divided,” said the presidential orc, despite it being clear for all to see that the majority were not the ones in the middle trying to kill each other. “It appears that a reasoned debate is called for.”

The aide handed back his axe.

#

“Okay, so not a nice friendly village,” said Celestia, turning to Midnight. “I suggest we get moving before this turns into a free-for-all.”

“Aw, I think we should stay,” said a voice from behind them. “After all, we’re getting to the best part.”

The silhouetted face of Swipe emerged from a darkness that wasn’t there a moment ago, pushing between the two of them.

Chapter 17: Non-Player Character

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 17: Non-Player Character

Midnight looked around at the approaching adventurers. What she really wanted to say, more than anything else at that moment, was “Go right on ahead and loot the place, but we need to go,” followed by some strenuous running. However the strangest thing took place.

She said absolutely nothing. She didn’t move, she just stood there, watching the scene unfold against her will.

The slender earth pony Torchlit walked past her like she didn’t exist, peering down at the town. “Where is it, where is it…” he muttered to himself for a few seconds. “Bingo!”

Two pig creatures...orcs, they had called themselves...dressed in skimpy dresses emerged upon the stage from behind the curtain, carrying between them a great chest filled with treasure. Coins mostly, but also more than a dozen gems of various sizes, colors and quality. Most obvious because of their glint were a fire opal, an oriental amethyst, and a hypnotic black pearl.

“There!” exclaimed a female voice, somewhat garbled from too much phlegm in the throat. “I must have that pearl!” A pink foreleg pointed.

Hope turned to see who had just spoken, and fell over to the ground, her mouth agape in shock. “You!”

All eyes turned to the new pony, a pegasus with a light blue and pale red mane. Her left wing was noticeably larger than her right. The pegasus looked down at Hope, and rolled her eyes. “You’re not supposed to recognize me,” she said gruffly. She looked off into the eastern horizon for some reason inexplicable to Midnight, a look of profound disappointment washing across her features.

Midnight, unable to move but for being yanked to look, unable to speak, felt her hoof moving of its own volition, rising...ominously rising...to point at the pegasus.

“What are you?” she then asked lamely, while in her mind she screamed in frustration. She had meant to ask her ex-companion how she recovered so quickly, but it didn’t seem that she was allowed to speak any line that hadn’t been roughly shoved into her brain for her to say.

“I am the future of Equestria,” the pegasus proclaimed, putting one hoof up on a rock that Midnight could have sworn wasn’t there a second ago. “The new leader of the band of adventurers that will wipe all monsters from the face of…” (An uncomfortable pause, involving staring at the eastern horizon.) “Equus!” She gestured at her cutie mark, which portrayed a badly drawn pony skull wreathed in flames. “I...am...Skull Flame!”

“Soul Cleaver?!” Hope asked in an unbelieving squeak.

Midnight fought with all her might to speak, to shout out or even signal that she was helpless in her own body. To ask somepony what was going on. She knew that “Soul Cleaver” was the name of the dead pony, but how...

Oh wait, she was being required to say something stupid again. “The legend lives on,” she said.

“Skull Flame” looked down at Hope. “You’re that pony that talks, aren’t you?”

The unicorn, Vaya Con Dios, summoned a gag to cover Hope’s mouth before she could reply. “None of that, now,” he said darkly.

“Aw, come on now!” the pegasus named Swipe said. “She’s the most fun we’ve had in this entire campaign. And look, she’s almost made it to the Inn in time for the…” He seemed to look annoyed that his last word had been snatched from his lips before he could say it.

“So, what do you think?” Torchlit asked Skull Flame, pointing down at the village. “Think we can take the treasure?”

“Oh, no question,” answered Skull Flame. “But how do we guarantee a 100% kill rate?”

Hope struggled mightily against her magical muzzle, trying to make her thoughts known.

“We could stand to use some backup,” said Vaya.

Skull looked over at Hope. “I’m not bringing her.”

“Alright, then what about the unicorn?”

“I live to serve!” Midnight replied, straining with all her might to roll her eyes, impale herself on a nearby log, or give herself a heart attack, all without success.

“Now hold on,” Swipe complained, “before we throw the … to the wolves, I wanna ask a few questions.” Midnight observed the missing word in the thief’s speech. She was fairly sure that he was referring to her. So was it an insult that he had been censored by his god from speaking? Or something more, some hint that would be invaluable in her studies if she only knew?

Meanwhile, Swipe had wrapped a hoof around the edge of Hope’s gag and pulled, which caused it to vanish. “Who’s your friend?” he asked in a smarmy tone.

Hope looked at Midnight with a calm, cold look. “She’s my master,” she said. “She bought me on the slave market in Horn’s Reach. She’s taking me to Hoofington to sell me to the highest bidder. Maybe you could even buy me.” She looked over at Swipe with a sultry look. “I bet you’d like that,” she said as she licked her lips.

Swipe turned to Midnight. “Is this true?” he asked. “Th...the slave part. I don’t think I want to know the rest.”

Midnight discovered to her horror that the process affecting her went both ways. Not only could words be shoved into her brain for her to say, but also that it was possible for things to be yanked out of her thoughts and memories, for inspection by the thing that gave adventurers their marching orders. She felt something invade her mind, searching around for anything attached to the concepts of “That Annoying Earth Pony” and “That Unicorn Chick”. Desperately, she tossed chemistry equations at it as she tried to think. What was Celes...Hope trying to gain with such a story?, she asked herself desperately, a complete...fabrication? Was it possible that they couldn’t tell the difference between real memories and false ones? Desperately, Midnight tried to summon an image of what buying Hope would have looked like. She had nothing but fairy tales to guide her, but there was that one that was very well illustrated…

“Yes,” Midnight said the implanted word with callous indifference, though her heart was pounding hard enough to make her dizzy.

Swipe laughed. “Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it!” he crowed to Hope, before advancing uncomfortably close to Midnight. “So, what’s your story?” he asked her. “Are you loaded? Flat broke? Have a collection of scrolls that you’d like to share with your new best friends?”

Before she could stop herself, Midnight thought of the potions that Firebelle had given them, tucked away in their cart. By the time she started thinking of wooden ducks, it was too late.

“Not that I would want to give them to you, but I have some potions hidden away in those bushes.”

“Sweet!” exclaimed Swipe. “Torchlit…?”

“Already on it,” Torchlit said, digging his way through to the cart. The sound of a couple of gourds of water could be heard being shaken and then tossed contemptuously to the ground, where they shattered. “Ooh! Found them! Oh. They’re just Class 1 healing potions. I can make stronger juice in my sleep.”

“The shame!” Midnight involuntarily exclaimed, covering her eyes with one forehoof. “It appears I will never be the equal of a true master of the craft!” Her voice was oddly accented, like she was attempting to imitate the earth pony before her.

All of the adventurers save Torchlit burst into raucous laughter at this line. “Oh, man! You nailed him!” Swipe exclaimed, his words aimed once again at that mysterious spot to the east.

“Why must you always mock me?” Torchlit said petulantly.

“Because you’re so pathetic!” exclaimed Vaya, giving him a noogie.

“Team...focus,” Skull Flame warned in a low voice.

The others instantly fell into attention before her, a mocking smile on Swipe’s face.

“So you’re just a potion maker, huh?” the former Firebelle asked.

“Well, until I ran out of money and turned to slave-running instead,” Midnight replied in a matter of fact manner, though in her mind she was raging at being called “just” a potion maker.

“Right, then,” said Skull Flame. “You’re kind of big, so Torchlit, you use her as cover while you’re lobbing your bombs. Vaya, use that staff of yours to bash some skulls, and Swipe, live up to your name and swipe us some gems. I can see from here that the coins are copper, so don’t waste your time with them.”

“Excuse me?! I am not ‘big’.” Midnight objected, agreeing for once with her compulsions.

“Pony, if I tell you you’re a pegasus, then you had better start flying!” She looked to the others with an expectant grin. “Huh? Get it?”

Swipe wiped his jaw with one hoof. “No, sorry. Not feeling it. And neither is Foaltus.”

“And what will you be doing, oh Fearless Leader?” asked Hope.

Skull Flame rolled her eyes. “Vaya, please silence...silence...unicorn, remind me what her name is.”

Several seconds passed, during which each of the adventurers in turn focused their attention on Midnight. “Hope Springs,” she repeated in her head as often and as loud as she could. All thoughts of the other name were shoved deep into her subconsciousness.

“H...ho...Her,” she finally said. She clamped her jaws together, to keep the fatal word “Highness” from leaking out.

“Hope Springs,” Torchlit said with a roll of his eyes.

“What, do you memorize them or something?” asked Swipe. He flew up into the air a bit to assert some sort of superiority.

“Well, somebody had better do it, right? Remember that time when we ended up knocking out the wrong griffon because somebody mixed up our employer with our target?”

“As I keep saying, I meant to do that!” roared Skull Flame.

Midnight recoiled from the raging pegasus, but couldn’t do anything but return to her neutral stance.

“Or...Soul Cleaver meant to do that,” Skull Flame added after a moment. “Ugh, whatever.”

“Um...guys,” Swipe warned, his eyes fixed on something behind the others. “I think we’re about to lose initiative.”

“What?” asked Skull Flame, turning.

And then she was swarmed by about thirty orcs armed with polearms.

Midnight was still locked in position, but she felt herself being slowly dragged away by Hope’s hoof hooked around her leg. She could do nothing but stare as dozens of the creatures from the village swarmed the adventurers.

It seemed like they would be drowned by a living wave of adversaries, but there was a sudden and nearly silent explosion emitted by Vaya’s staff, which caused the creatures to be propelled suddenly through the air, some of them ahead of Hope and Midnight. Swipe was nowhere to be seen.

“This thing affecting you had better have an area of effect,” grunted Hope, pulling Midnight further and further away from the battle. So far, the creatures seemed to utterly ignore them.

There was a brief shimmer in the air, and suddenly Swipe was standing before Skull Flame, presenting her with the black pearl. It appeared from Midnight’s vantage point that there were reptilian eyes inside the pearl, staring out at the eager pegasus.

Without a word, Skull Flame shoved the pearl into her mouth and swallowed it. Immediately, she doubled over and hissed sharply.

Midnight’s muscles began to unlock. A few seconds later, she was free.

“Run!” Celestia urged her, as she ran away from the village with all of her might.

With a scream, Skull Flame’s wings were ripped apart, to be replaced by two magnificent dragon wings, a pure black in color. “So...much...power!” she cried, her voice becoming inequine as her body began to bloat.

Midnight ran then, sparing only one more glance back at the terrifying new version of Firebelle that was being born at the center of all this, and then she only saw Hope’s tail bobbing through the brush.

The swamp that contained the orc village ended in a wall of thorns. Celestia used her earth pony powers to push through it, and they emerged at the outskirts of Hoofington.

Celestia and Midnight ran into the town. They saw the Inn almost immediately, but ran past it into another alley. Celestia carefully looked around, and especially up, before finally returning to Midnight and nodding mutely.

“I couldn’t speak!” Midnight cried. “I couldn’t move, I was useless, I couldn’t...” She coughed on the words, fear and exhaustion warring with each other as her eyes searched around the alley for something that wasn’t there.

Celestia embraced the terrified unicorn and held her until the shaking subsided.

“The cloak is gone, the gold is gone, I don’t...”

“We’ll go back,” Celestia said calmly. “We’ll go back after the fight is over. I honestly don’t think they’re even going to remember that cart after they’re done, and the orcs will never find it.” She looked angrily to the east. “I didn’t know that’s what they did to other ponies. The adventurers seemed confused by the way I answered their questions, but I had no idea that that meant that most ponies came under their control. I’m so sorry, Midnight. I saw it happening in your eyes, and I did what I could to distract them, to give them the sort of story they wanted, so they wouldn’t ask any awkward questions. I’m sorry that I made you out as such an awful pony...again. I do that too much.”

Midnight just tightened the hug.

“I...I know I’m not. I just...they wanted me dead. No, worse. A shield. I was the same thing as a slab of metal to them. I thought I’d at least be able to stand my own, if something bad ever happened, but this...”

“And if you had been wearing that cloak?” Celestia asked.

“It might...I don’t know.” Midnight released Celestia and sat with her back against a wall. “I don’t know if it will be enough,” she admitted. “There’s no way of knowing.”

Celestia held the unicorn at hoof’s length. “Midnight, if you’re not sure you can stand up to it, if you are not absolutely sure, then you shouldn’t go in there with me.” She looked down at her hooves. “You’ve taken me this far, for which I am immeasurably grateful, but I really don’t think I have any right to ask more of you, especially after what you’ve been through. I, I think—”

“Let me think on it,” Midnight pleaded. “I am shaken, yes, and I know this is beyond me but... Give me a night to figure out what I want to do. Then...then I’ll decide. But no matter what...” She held out a hoof, smiling a bit despite all of what had just happened. “I’d like to still be your friend.”

“Always,” Celestia said, taking that hoof in her own. “Always.”

Chapter 19: Horsewords

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 20: The Vital Importance of Snacking

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 20: The Vital Importance of Snacking

Midnight knocked on Hope’s door, with Chestnut standing beside her. In two boxes at their hooves sat their dinners. The boxes were made of cardboard, and liberally waxed to keep anything from leaking out.

“Good evening,” said Hope, opening the door.

“I’ll get Sorrel,” said Chestnut, reaching out to knock on the adjacent door. The red pony was waiting for them with his own boxed dinner, and soon the foursome was eating in Hope’s room, with the door open for propriety.

Hope for her part had rounded up clean cushions for them all to sit on, and a pitcher of water and wide-mouthed glasses for them to drink from.

“This is really nice...I’m sort of glad we’re out here. A lot of the adventurers seem to be...intense to interact with,” the unicorn explained, spearing a chunk of delicately seasoned artichoke heart. A tiny drop of cooking liquid fell from the piece and landed on the waxed cardboard, where it contracted into a hemispherical shape. Midnight started splitting her attention, between the conversation of the other ponies, and playing with the properties of waxed cardboard.

“Hmm...yes, I agree,” said Sorrel, picking at his salad. “A pony, even an adventurer pony has got to be able to unwind.”

Chestnut expressed her assent by nodding, her attention focused on the rather cheesy casserole she was eating.

“You know, I didn’t actually expect to meet that many friends or relatives of would-be adventurers when we set out for the Inn,” said Hope after eating a carefully lifted spoonful of roasted grains. “I thought I’d sort of be alone here.”

“It’s not that unusual,” said Sorrel. “Our family has been sending a pony here to the Inn at least once a generation. And it just doesn’t seem right not to stand by the candidate on the way to the Inn. We all are capable, after all; it’s just that, well, most of us are needed for the family business.”

“I’m here out of curiosity, really,” said Midnight. “Hope is more of...a friend than a servant.”

“We can tell who’s pulling the strings,” Chestnut said, her eyes never leaving her meal.

Midnight bristled. “I came here to find out how the process of becoming an adventurer works—it’s fascinating to me. I’ve actually made this cloak to help me observe the process, hopefully without forgetting it all.”

Chestnut and Sorrel looked each other with a smile, sharing some sort of private joke. “Pretty simple, really,” Chestnut said. “Go to sleep, wake up a couple years later…”

“...Get the big bag of bits from under your bed…” said Sorrel.

“...And go home!”

The pair laughed.

“And do the members of your family usually make it home?” Hope asked quietly.

“Usually,” said Sorrel.

“Oh, I know how the process works from our point of view,” Midnight assured. “I’ve heard it and watched it happen. But I am curious about the spirits and how they function. I’ll let them do what they want, but I am curious about how the magic energy...the flow of everything.”

“Curious? Curious?” The stallion laughed good-naturedly. “Inn ponies are not supposed to be curious. Very much against-the-rules.” The last sentence was pronounced in a curious accent.

Chestnut laughed out loud. “Oh, your Chief is so good!”

“Chief?” Midnight asked curiously.

“The Chief of Police back in Maneport. Such a stick in the mud.” Sorrel raised an eyebrow above his grin, daring Midnight or Hope to pursue the matter further.

Hope rubbed her chin with one hoof. “I suppose you don’t have that much objection to adventurers, do you?”

Sorrel shrugged. “That depends. They’re a system, like all the others. A little bit is good. Too much...not so good. Why, are you two plotting to take down a vast overarching system of laws and regulations?”

“‘Cause if you are, we’re in!” exclaimed an excited Chestnut.

Midnight seemed to ponder the statement for a bit, while chewing her food, before pointing her fork at Hope. “Take down...I wouldn’t say take down...but, maybe shove our heads in and get as much a look at the inner workings as we can? We’re not looking to hurt anyone. We’re just trying to figure out how it works. Maybe make it better? Maybe if it can’t be made better, throw a few rocks at it?”

“An excellent way to correct a system—or a corrupt mayor,” noted Sorrel.

“In...fil...tration!” exclaimed Chestnut.

“One of my sister’s favorite words there: infiltration,” said Sorrel. “Nothing better in the whole wide world.”

Hope leaned her face on one hoof. “So, like, are you part of the Guild back home?”

The siblings exchanged a glance. “Miss, we are the Guild back home,” Sorrel said proudly.

“I knew it!” Hope exclaimed, springing up. “One thing I always lamented in my previous life was that I never got to meet any of you ponies back home. You always had the best stories written about you.”

“Well, a good public relations department is essential to our self-preservation,” Sorrel admitted.

Midnight looked around, befuddled. “Did I miss something? What Guild are you talking about?”

The three of them laughed.

Chestnut put one hoof up to her forehead. “Alas, the Mistress is too l...lilly white to know!”

“Thieves’ Guild, My Lady,” explained Sorrel with a smile. “We probably had business with your family’s valuables at some point, if they were a family of any reputation whatsoever.”

With a gasp, Midnight dropped her fork. “No!” she gasped, putting a hoof to her mouth.

Chestnut and Sorrel laughed uproariously at her reaction, rolling on the ground and holding their sides.

Midnight then stopped and squinted at Hope.

“You would have wanted to meet them in your past life? Really? That seems backwards to me.”

Hope sighed. “They have a code of honor, Midnight. One they hold to a good deal more rigorously than the majority of aristocrats I have ever met. Their ideals are...well, far more anarchistic than I would prefer for a society that is…”

“Stratified?” suggested Sorrel archly.

“Stable,” provided Hope. “But believe it or not, they do have their uses.”

“I am flattered by the lady’s high opinion!” Sorrel said, easily affecting a Unicornian accent.

“So...have you two already...? Hope, should they know, if they’re getting in on the plan? I mean...” Midnight, lost in a social situation in which she was the least powerful and least aware of the ponies present, deferred to her friend rather than retreating back into eating her meal.

“Not too much,” warned the orange mare.

“Chestnut’s right,” said Sorrel with an apologetic smile. “We owe our allegiance to a higher authority. It’s best not telling us anything you don’t want the rest of the Guild knowing.”

Hope frowned, not happy with having to keep secrets from her new friends.

Sorrel reached out to gently lift her chin. “Don’t fret,” he told her. “We’re used to operating with little information.”

“Or outright lies,” added Chestnut.

“Lies are what makes the world go ‘round, after all.”

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to disagree with you there,” Hope said quietly.

“But...wait for just a moment. Would the Guild knowing be a bad thing?” Midnight asked softly. “What if that helped? This is a unique situation, and their knowledge could be used to test this all as well...”

“There’s knowledge, and then there’s knowledge,” said Celestia, practically Equestria’s master of the distinction between the two. “I wish to take down the whole adventuring system, bring this world back to where it once was. There’s more than that, matters of my motivation in the matter…”

“Which is none of our gods-condemned business, yes?” asked Sorrel.

“I wouldn’t have put it that way...but yes. Is that enough knowledge for them, Midnight?”

“I suppose...” she sullenly agreed. “It’s aggravating to be unable to tell anypony about it though. I wish my little brother was around, he’s always good for a chat.” She went back to her waxen experimentation, scraping the coating back with a knife and seeing how a little water flowed and pooled from one region to another.

Hope sat quietly for a few moments as she pondered her words. “I think he and Water Cooler would have got along splendidly,” she quipped.

“Oh don’t you start,” warned Midnight.

“What can we do?” Chestnut asked, interrupting them.

Midnight set her knife back down. “Well, first of all, do you know of any secrets regarding the Inn and how it communicates with the other side, where the Pla—”

She stopped, took off her cloak, scooted very close to Hope and Sorrel.

“Where the Players live?”

Sorrel and Chestnut shared a glance, with the red stallion nodding at the orange mare. “Neat trick,” Chestnut said.

“Our family’s got a fair number who are like Chestnut here,” said Sorrel. “Speaking problems. Hearing problems too. Turns out we didn’t need no fancy unicorn magic—lip reading works just as well.”

“But it’s a foreign language,” protested Hope.

“So’s Thieves’ Cant. So’s Griffish, and the seven major dialects of Dragonic,” said Sorrel. “Understanding what’s being spoken in front of you by those who think they are hiding secrets in plain sight...well, that’s a very useful skill to have in our profession. Once we knew they were doing it, we hung around them enough to pick up most of the terms from context.”

Chestnut chuckled. “Playing dumb.”

“Oh yes,” said Sorrel, gesturing at his face. “Our family is blessed with really simple looking faces. So let’s see...what can I tell you... They’ve got their own world...and they’re fat. They talk about food all the time. They go from place to place in pulled carriages—”

“Automatic!” Chestnut butted in.

“Oh hush, Sis. We don’t know that at all.”

“I can’t tell if you’re crushing my dreams or giving me everything I need,” Midnight sighed. “They talk about food a lot, like what? Are we talking about...great feasts and such? Ambrosia?”

“Snacks,” said Sorrel.

“Planet of the Snacks,” said Chestnut with a giggle.

“They spend most of the time when they’re not being the characters talking about what they’re eating. What they will be eating. What was wrong with what they just ate. I imagine that they’re...sitting or standing still controlling us. For hours on end.”

“It makes sense,” Chestnut insisted. “Can’t eat a feast and talk at the same time.”

“Yes,” said Sorrel with a nod. “They control us with their words, not with thoughts or gestures or what have you. What else can they do under the circumstances, but snack?”

“I just...snacks?” Midnight asked helplessly. “We can’t beat them with snacks! At least, I don’t think so. What else, like, who makes these snacks? Do they have servants who make them?”

“Can’t beat them with snacks?” asked Hope. “You, obviously, know nothing about my sister’s disastrous snicker doodle recipe.”

“You’re right, because I hadn’t even been born when she last made them,” Midnight said with a roll of her eyes, before clamping her hooves over her mouth. “Um....I mean...Yestheyaredelicious.”

The siblings looked at each other, and rolled their eyes in unison.

“Well, what shall I critique first?” Sorrel asked himself. “How about the servants? There are no servants. Or maybe they have some taboo regarding speaking of them while adventuring. They get their own snacks. That’s another advantage of that particular food type—they usually require very little preparation time and...and this is a very odd subject of conversation that we have wandered into. Is there anything you want to know that isn’t snack related?”

“Yes! How can we separate their power from our world?” Midnight asked determinedly.

“Chestnut!” Sorrel exclaimed.

“Yes, Brother?” Chestnut replied.

“How can we steal all of Miss Midnight’s fortune from her family estate?”

“I dunno,” Chestnut said, putting on a thoughtful expression. “She somehow ne...neglected to tell us the combo to her safe in casual conv...conversation!”

They then proceeded to look at Midnight like she was an idiot.

The unicorn blushed deeply and got very, very interested in finishing her meal, silently.

Eventually, she recovered enough to tell the pair of her plans. Chestnut immediately agreed to getting a cloak, and the siblings even had a suggestion of how to modify it to make it much less conspicuous.

“An aluminum-coated hat? I guess I could make one...” She conceded as she walked them to their rooms.

Author's Note

Any readers of The Best of All Possible Words might be able to figure out who Chestnut and Sorrel are by this point.

Chapter 21: The Last Day

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 21: The Last Day

Early the next morning, Midnight quietly descended down to the main floor of the Inn, to partake in breakfast. Just like with lunch and dinner, a buffet was laid out, and ponies were circulating and eating.

There were many more of them than the previous day, and most of the new arrivals still wore mud-stained cloaks and other signs that they had very recently arrived.

All this served as a powerful reminder to Midnight of the note posted on every door upstairs: the convention would begin that night, at midnight. She shivered a bit before picking up a plate in her magic.

Later, as she was walking past the booths with her breakfast, she saw Chestnut leaning into the booth that Winter Harvest and her sister were in earlier. As she watched, Winter’s foreleg reached out and grabbed Chestnut’s in the complex hoofshake she had used earlier on Midnight. Interestingly, Chestnut seemed to recognize and complete the intricate maneuver.

Sitting at a table by himself was a mountain of an earth pony. Midnight recognized him as the victor of the jousting tournament. He seemed to be waiting patiently, his empty plate sitting before him.

She took up her plate and briskly trotted over to the stallion.

“By any chance, is this seat open? It’s a bit crowded in here.”

“Hmm?” the white and blonde stallion asked. “Oh, probably. Looks like my companions from Maneport are going to be delayed.” He didn’t quite look and sound like a muscular version of Prince Blueblood, but he wasn’t that far off, either.

She nodded and sat, eating a few bites before holding out her hoof.

“Midnight Sparkle. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Torn Deck, of the Maneport Decks,” said the stallion, taking the hoof and kissing it lightly. “It is an honor to meet one of your lineage.”

Being a typical unicorn, Midnight wasn’t even aware that earth ponies had an aristocracy, much less the names of the families comprising it. After all, the earth ponies in the vicinity of Horn’s Reach were decidedly anti-noble in sentiment.

“Well...” She smiled shyly. “You flatter me, I hadn’t thought my name would carry weight here. I’m afraid I don’t recognize your name. But I will commit it to memory.”

“Oh, we Decks are not all that powerful,” Torn said with an easy smile. “My father’s the Chief of Police, after all.”

Midnight thought she recognized that accent.

“I hope you had an easier trip coming to the Inn than I had,” he confessed to her. “I was simply plagued with thieves! Unfortunately, I blamed my staff, and managed to sack them all before even getting half-way through the Everfree, and still the stealing continued! The only valuable I have left is this miniature portrait.” He opened the locket which was hanging around his neck, to show an ivory profile of a proud mare. “My dear Mama,” he said with a smile. “She ordered it made special for the occasion. Threatened to beat me senseless if I lost it.”

“It’s...she’s beautiful. I’m glad it made it through. As far as my own trip...” Midnight sighed. “I nearly lost one of my companions to some lizardlike creatures. That was just one of the difficult barriers I encountered, among less than kind adventurers, and cockatrices.”

“Oh, that’s horrible!” the earth pony exclaimed. “I didn’t lose anypony of value.”

“Refill,” said the strangely familiar orange pony in kitchen stripes as she quickly strode past the table.

“Re...wait, of value? So, it’s not just unicorns who tend to rank others as inferior?” She asked curiously, without any attempt at insult.

Torn Deck drew himself up proudly. “The plebeians of all three breeds may struggle and fight with one another over their petty differences, but you and I know that we as a class are their natural superiors, and their rulers. I dream of the day when the aristocracies of all kinds can tell the peoples of Equestria what to do, and what to think—together in peace. Even griffon and dragon nobles can join into the natural order—I’m not prejudiced.”

Midnight ate another piece of her food, though she had to struggle to appear calm. She then slowly stood. “Torn, a week ago...less than even that, I would agree with you. I’d even laugh at the idea of an earth pony nobility. Now...I genuinely hope that you choke on the locket you’re no longer wearing and die alone. Have a good day, Torn.”

“I...you…” he reached up to his neck, which was now bare. “Must I be plagued by thievery here, of all places?! Is there no justice in the world? Constable! I demand the services of a constable at once!”

Midnight smiled, and walked away.

Midnight worked industriously through the late morning and afternoon, so industriously that she received several complaints for the smells that were escaping from her room. Finally, she finished the two cloaks (and one hat) that she had promised.

She had to ask around a bit to discover which room Winter Harvest and her sister were staying at. She knocked, and Copper Plate answered the door.

“Winter! We’ve got presents!” Copper exclaimed happily.

Winter pushed lightly past her sister, and took their cloaks from Midnight. “Thank you so much,” she said. “I feel a lot better about accepting these, now that Chestnut has vouched for you.”

“Oh?” Midnight raised an eyebrow, and smiled. “I’m glad to know that I’ve made new friends, then.”

“We’ve got provisional memberships and everything!” blurted Copper.

Winter turned and “accidentally” struck her lightly upside the head with a hoof. “Hush now,” she said. Turning back to Midnight, she said, “Thanks again—we’ll report what happens as soon as possible, well...assuming that we are able.”

“This cloak looks awesome!” Copper said, trying hers on. “I’m sure it’ll work great!”

“Excellent! You’ll notice that the metal is blank. Mine has runes on it, but I’m not sure if they will make a difference. It’s all an experiment.”

“An experiment...in Super Science!” Copper exclaimed. “I’ve started drawing all of our adventures, with pictures and talking and...I think it will be something completely new! I’ve put all my theories in there—secret origins and unexpected powers, and villains in mountaintop lairs!”

Winter smiled apologetically. “She had a bit too much dessert from the lunch buffet.”

Midnight shrugged her cloak back on, and sat back to look at them, a bit of hope burning in her. “Well, good luck,” she said. “Both with the experiment, and with your drawing thing.”

Copper saluted. “Aye-aye!”

#

Chestnut accepted her hat with a grateful nod and little else.

Afterwards, Midnight made one last trip to the stable, to see Celestia. The late autumn sun was swiftly setting, making the short trip between buildings unexpectedly treacherous. Once on the second floor of the stable, she had to walk around several other ponies, of all classes and breeds, as they hustled and bustled in the halls and in the open-doored rooms. It was a strong contrast with the stand-alone ponies of the Inn.

“Hope? Are you home?” She asked, knocking on her door.

The door opened, and Hope pulled her into a fierce hug. “You are so brave for doing this,” Celestia whispered into her ear. “I don’t know how I can ever repay you.”

“Just make sure that I come back if the cloak doesn’t work,” she said, hugging Hope in return.

“It’s a promise,” Celestia told her. She held her at arm’s length. “Be strong,” she told her. “Be true and most of all, be clever.”

“Well, just a few hours left...” She smiled. “I think I can be clever for at least that long.”

Celestia hugged her again. “I do not know what place you might end up in if worst comes to worse, but I hope that it is warmed by the sun.”

“I hope that it’s warm, with lots of books.”

Celestia laughed.

Midnight sat alone in the middle of her room, a single candle burning before her. Her namesake hour was fast approaching.

Again and again, she reviewed her preparations, trying to find flaws, or means to improve her defenses against the god magic that was coming for her.

She looked down at her record sheet, at the side that non-adventurers were not allowed to see, the side that no pen or pencil could mark. She honestly thought that the intelligence score could be a little higher. The low wisdom score, on the other hoof...that one was probably right.

With a sigh, she allowed her eyes to wander...until they stopped on the blank rectangle labeled “Player Name”.

“I wonder…?” she asked herself. “Could it be that easy?”

She got up, and walked out the door. One of the maids was walking by with a cart.

“Excuse me!” she called out. “Might I be able to make a special request of the kitchen?”

Luckily for her, they were able to fulfil her request in time, but only just.

Midnight Sparkle sat in the middle of her room, a single candle burning before her, illuminating her record sheet. Her cloak was tucked tight around her. She had nearly fallen asleep when she realized that it had begun to spark.

The unicorn looked wildly around her, and gave a gasp as the shadows suddenly rushed inwards...

Hope sat alone in her room, looking at the far wall, looking in her mind’s eye through that wall, and through all of the other walls that separated her from Midnight.

“Be safe,” she pleaded silently. “Oh, please, be safe. That matters so much more to me right now than any victory against my foes, no matter how significant.”

She waited silently after that, feeling the stars wheeling above her. Luna’s stars, now impelled by a committee of unicorns.

One of them was Midnight’s sister, she remembered.

Midnight. It was midnight!

Celestia rose to her hooves. “Midnigh—!” she tried to cry out, when she was suddenly struck by the compulsion to sleep.

“No!” she cried, certain that she had been discovered once more. “No, I will not...let you...I must protect...Ah!”

It was no use. The compulsion could not be resisted. Celestia dropped deep into slumber. She felt herself falling, falling, falling…

...And then she landed. She looked down at herself, and then she looked around her. “No!” she exclaimed incredulously. “This...this is impossible!”

Author's Note

It's at this point that I put out the "Reader's Guide to the Inn of the Prancing Pony", to outline everything that's known at this precise moment.

Chapter 22: A Princess in the City of Angels

Author's Note

And here I finally exercise my option of using that Human tag I put on so long ago...

Chapter 22: A Princess in the City of Angels

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 22: A Princess in the City of Angels

The flying behemoths left gentle paths of water vapor behind them as they made their way across the late October skies, tracing out shapes that only the gods could make out completely. Some danced their way down towards the safety of their nesting grounds, others danced upwards, towards the freedom of the stratosphere. It was only once they had landed that it was easily discernible that the beasts themselves were hollow, filled with queuing people.

It was an odd way to consider Los Angeles International Airport, but it’s how Ellen Powell thought that a pony might consider it.

Ellen stood out in a crowd. It was something she was rather proud of. Her height had nothing to do with it—Ellen considered it cheating to try to dominate a room merely with height. No, she dominated a room with the size of her personality, and this poor airport terminal didn’t stand a chance. Of course, the frilly pink princess dress certainly didn’t hurt.

The flight from O’Hare was late. Of course. That was like saying that traffic on the 101 was slow, or that the air quality index downtown would be a bit on the unhealthy side. But the plane had finally landed, and the passengers were disembarking, starting with First Class. So it wasn’t much longer before…

“Sis! Long time, no see. I hope I didn’t interrupt your plans too much.” The traveler was still bundled up for a Midwestern autumn.

Ellen picked up her travel-on bag and began to walk with her back to Baggage Claim. “It wasn’t that bad,” she said. “I was already dressed up for the con, as you can see.”

Mary Jo Powell nodded. “I just want to apologize once more, though.”

Ellen shrugged. “Gary’s a busy man.”

Mary Jo laughed. “Never thought I’d reach the day when somebody said that about him.”

#

The two eventually ended up in Ellen’s Lincoln Town Car, slowly making their way through traffic to the Hyatt. Nobody seemed to notice that a car was being driven through downtown L.A. by a pretty pink princess. In fact, as Mary Jo looked into a few windows, she saw individuals wearing far stranger clothing. Or even in one case, nothing at all.

Ellen absently tuned the radio through the early morning radio talkfests to find a little current pop music:

Some girls take a bashful boy
And hide him away from the rest of the world
I wanna be the one to walk in the sun
Oh boys, they want to have fun.

“So, how’s Uncle Bernie treating you these days at the firm?” Mary Jo asked from the passenger seat, her fingers tented together before her lips. Minus all the foul weather apparel, the elder of the two Powell sisters was just a bit taller than her sibling, her angular features accentuated by minimal makeup and lack of sleep.

“As well as upper management can treat an employee without it being illegal,” Ellen said with a wan grin. “But really, he does his best to keep the place running, a good place to work, all that jazz, but it’s still a corporate job. What’s keeping you up at night?”

“Luke and I have nearly gotten all the kinks worked out of Second Edition,” Mary Jo said, putting her hands behind her head of fuzzy red hair. “He’s here, you know. Took an awful lot of coaxing, but I finally talked him into coming down for the convention. He took the flight before mine. I figured he deserved some kind of public recognition for all of those late nights and last-minute revisions.”

Ellen nodded. “And how is Gary, anyway? I know he’s only a dozen miles or so from me, but we’ve never really gotten along, you know.”

Mary Jo smiled wryly. “I know. I think I’m finally beginning to see what you don’t see in him. He’s still at Marvel, putting out that cartoon of his.”

“I heard it isn’t doing that well,” Ellen said with a frown. “I hope it’s not too much of a drain for you.”

“Oh, it’s a drop in the bucket, I assure you,” Mary Jo said with a too-wide smile. “You see, I’ve learned that the secret of a successful marriage is to always keep the husband busy. You remember his last project, don’t you? That Polearm Guide that ran to 500 plus pages? I think we maybe sold 85 copies...tops.”

The flinch and hiss of drawn breath was followed by an incredulous stare, before Ellen looked back to the road. “Was he crushed? Eighty five...double digits, I can’t even...how many copies have we put out? Easily in the five digit range, right? I can’t even imagine how hurt I’d be by that.”

“Player’s Manual was eighty thousand last year. No, he doesn’t really care. I have to hand it to him—the man’s a true artist. He made that book because he always wanted to write a book about medieval and early modern weaponry, and this was the only way he was ever going to do it. I mean, have you ever watched an episode of that Ponies & Dragons cartoon? The action in the one I saw had almost nothing to do with any of the actual rules. The story seemed pretty good, and of course, the poor kids trapped in the bodies of ponies nearly made it home, just like I imagine they always nearly do. I’ve been told by marketing that the series has had a positive impact on sales. Not much of an impact, but still.”

“But, that last adventure...that last enemy...” Ellen smiled, nodding. “I still like to think that you run the best games. Even the ones we lose, we feel like we were heroes.”

“Well, the fans seem to think so. Our first day has already sold out the seats in the spectator section before the con even launched—first year that’s happened, I think.”

“Really... Good thing I don’t get stage fright then. Did you get the character sheet I mailed you?” Ellen made a starburst by popping open her hand—the traffic was slow enough that she could do it safely. “Sun Star. She’s a cleric of—”

“Nope didn’t get it,” Mary Jo said quickly. “Must have been eaten by the U.S. Postal Service. Too bad.”

“Or by a grue...a grue with pony-related authority issues,” Ellen grumbled.

They arrived at the Hyatt, and brought Mary Jo’s luggage up to the room that the hotel had perpetually reserved for her this time of year. From the tenth story window, she could look straight down on the convention center.

Mary Jo stood at the window for a few minutes, her arm extended downwards as she closed thumb and forefinger around one person after another walking about on the ground far below. “Squish! Squish! Squish!” she said with a squeal.

“Really? Squishy-squish goes the common folk? Come on, you’re more creative than that.” Ellen took out a handmade clay pony miniature, holding it at a distance to line it up with a balding man. “I have tasted human flesh, I now crave it eternally!”

Mary Jo cackled. “We make good gods, we two.”

“Only the best.”

Ellen leaped and plopped heavily onto the bed, gleefully listening to the springs groan. “Now Mary Jo, I’ll be just down the hall, and these springs are pretty loud, so don’t—”

Mary Jo was in the midst of devising a suitable riposte, when a sudden knocking started upon the door. The standing woman sighed and consulted her watch. “Less than ten minutes. Gotta be a new record.” From her overnight bag, she took out a conical yellow hat with “Rules Wizard” written down the side. She walked up to the door and looked through the peephole. “I’ll give you one guess,” she said to Ellen with a gloomy look.

The pink-clothed girl rolled to her stomach on the bed, frowning. “Surely it’s not Brian? I thought we were stealthy, what with my ninja costume and such.”

Mary Jo laughed. “Oh, how I missed you!” She turned to the door, preparing to open it. “Now you, on the other hand…Ah, Brian! How nice to see our number one customer!”

The short hirsute man on the other side of the now open door waved a beefy hand absently. “Yah, yah, I’m awesome,” he said. “Now tell Edgar back here that I can still control my character after ingesting a slit-eye pearl.”

Mary Jo looked over Brian’s shoulder at the tall thin man behind him, who was trying desperately not to have anything to do with Brian while standing in front of his idol. “It’s nice to meet you, Edgar. How long have you been Pony Handling for Brian?”

“Oh, uh about two months,” Edgar said, shuffling his feet.

“I think that you makes you Brian’s thirty-ninth PH,” Mary Jo said.

“Forty-second,” Brian mumbled.

While this conversation had been going on, Mary Jo had held a hand back towards her sister, a prompt to hand over the appropriate rulebook. Ellen, however, had other plans.

“I’ll handle his pony, hai-o!” Ellen called from inside, doing her best Victoria Valentine impression. “But no, not really. It’s a joke. Slit-eye pearls turn ponies into dragons, and we can’t play dragons, Brian! Just like you can’t drive a tank down the freeway—it’s bad balance, bad handling, a bomb in a fistfight. Oh right, books...”

Ellen actually rolled off the bed with a fairly loud thud and squeal of bedsprings, before digging through a bag and standing up to pass her sister the newest, grandest, most written-in and errata'd Player’s Guide that there ever was.

“But…” the little man protested.

Mary Jo took the book and opened it to the right page without even looking down. “Brian, what’s Rule #1 of player creation? Read it for me, please.”

“‘You can’t play a dragon.’ But like, what if my character had a pony brain inside of a dragon body? Or like, if it had some limitation to even things out? Like, she totally becomes powerless from 2 to 3 pm on alternate Thursdays? That would totally balance things out, right?”

“Brian, please read Rule #2.”

“‘No half-dragons, part-dragons, or even a teensy-bit dragons, neither.’ But what about—”

“Brian! Read Rule #3.”

“‘No exceptions!’” He sighed. “Alright. But Skull Flame was going to be awesome! She was going to fix her wings, and we were going to hunt down that scary pony that was giving Edgar nightmares.”

Edgar rapidly shook his head. “We’ve covered the rule dispute, I think we can just go. We don’t need to bother the Great and Powerful M.J. with piddling details like that.”

“You should do your scary PH voice, tell him his character exploded or something,” Ellen piped up from where she was dangling, top half of her body first, off a chair, legs hooked over the back. “Heck, get rid of the scary—” Ellen fell (again) from the chair, and rushed to the door, wide eyed. “Scary pony? Edgar, you’re now a VP, get in here. Byeeee Briiiaaaaaaaan!”

“But what if—”

SLAM!

Mary Jo took off her wizard hat. “Welcome to my humble abode,” she said sarcastically. “Can I get you anything? Water? Something that comes in a teeny-tiny bottle?”

“Oh, um...water, I guess…”

“Sure thing! The finest bathroom tap water, coming right up!”

“Okay, Edgar...hold on, sit down.” Ellen pulled up a chair next to the one he took, and sighed deeply, eyes closed, before speaking. “First off, yes. We made the game. We aren’t better at it than anyone, well...” She smirked and winked to her sister. “Except maybe Brian, but I digress. The scary pony...if I’m right, and according to myself I usually am, I think we know who you are talking about. I would like you to describe it to me.”

Edgar looked around him, still very nervous. “Look, I just want to say first of all that Brian’s exaggerating. It was just an odd little thing brought up by stress. This is my first con, after all, and to be invited to play on the same floor as you two, well, it can do something to a guy, you know? Anyway, this was just some NPC I rolled up, because I didn’t feel like roleplaying an entire encounter in some little town just to gather information. She was an earth pony, bit on the scrawny side, standard issue brown.”

“Earth pony? Really? Are you sure she didn’t have, I don’t know, wings, a horn and a flowing mane?”

Edgar looked at her with a blank expression. “It wasn’t Princess Celestia.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. She, uh, was a Celestia worshipper. I think.”

“You...think. She was your character.”

Edgar sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, the details are kind of fuzzy. In fact, there are parts of that night I don’t really remember at all. We were kinda wasted.”

Ellen looked over at the bathroom. “Jojo...hold on, stress right? What were you admitted to the hospital under? It was stress, right? A short visit, in and out, nothing wrong? But it’s not stress.” She looked back at her guest. “What was her name, Edgar?”

Mary Jo came out with the glass of water. “Are you on that again? Edgar, I’m sorry, but any time my sister hears the word ‘Celestia’, she turns into the Spanish Inquisition.”

“It matters!” Ellen said, almost begging, before turning to Edgar again. “Did any of your friends get spooked about it? Say that you spoke with a different voice? Maybe they were scared of you a little, not sure if you were really you? What was her name?”

Edgar backed into his chair. “I’m not feeling very comfortable right now. In fact, I think I better go. It was nice meeting you.” He pointedly addressed this last remark to Mary Jo alone, as she escorted him out of the room.

“Great, that’s just great!” M.J. exclaimed after closing the door. “The convention hasn’t even started, and you’re already bugging out. You ever treat any of your clients this way on the witness stand?”

Ellen turned away, looking out the window. “No,” she answered with a frown. “The witness stand isn’t where you press them. You press them when you’re consulting, alone, and you know that they aren’t telling the whole truth. I’m a decent lawyer, Jojo. I can feel when things don’t add up, and this...I’m sorry, okay? I’ll go to my room... Dinner in a few hours?” She asked, as she stood.

Mary Jo sighed. “Alright,” she said. “Why don’t you go down to the convention floor and mingle? At least one of us can still do that without being mobbed.”

“I will. Want anything from the vendors? They’re still setting up, so they might have something nice.” She stopped at the door, putting on her best smile.

“Surprise me,” Mary Jo said, returning the smile.

There was a single knock on the door before Ellen yanked it open, revealing a young blond man with a checkered shirt and spectacles on. In the crook of one arm, he held a pile of books and paperwork. “Oh!” he said on seeing the woman before him. “Uh, hello. Ellen? You probably don’t remember me.”

“Don’t work her too hard, Luke,” she said, passing him on the way out.

“Oh, you...you do remember me. Mrs. Powell, I have the paperwork you requested.”

“Yes, yes,” M.J. said wearily, ushering him inside. “Tell me, Luke...do you think I’m normal?”

“Sounds like bedroom talk! Watch out, the bed squeaks!” Ellen shouted up the hall before the door swung shut.

She frowned, reflecting on her joke which was probably in poor taste, before shrugging and making her way to the convention center.

#

Ellen walked happily among the surging crowds of little girls, half of them in some sort of pony costume. She kept her eyes open for two particular types of costumes in particular.

“You!” she said, pointing at a costumed girl with a pastel striped wig. “Who are you supposed to be?”

“I’m Pricess Celessia!” the girl crowed, looking up at the mother holding her hand to make sure she wasn’t in trouble for talking with a stranger.

“It’s very good!” Ellen exclaimed, lowering herself down to the girl’s level. “Would you like Princess Celestia’s official seal of approval?”

The girl looked up to her mother, who nodded indulgently. She then shook her head so violently that she nearly lost her wig.

From the lanyard holding her convention pass, Ellen lifted up one of two little stamps, and applied it to the girl’s pass. The stamp consisted of Princess Celestia’s cutie mark, accompanied by the words “Approved by Princess Celestia”.

“Whas it say? Whas it say?” the girl demanded after a brief examination.

The mother read it to her.

“Yay!” the girl screamed. She started to run away, but was stopped by the hand of the mother.

“What do we say?” she prompted.

“...Thank ooo,” the girl said in a little voice. “Ooh! A mannycore!”

And the pair was off.

Ellen rose to her feet laughing. “Another convert to the cause,” she said to herself.

Her other stamp was Nightmare Moon giving the recipient permission to keep on living. She didn’t get to use that one nearly as often.

Mary Jo waited at her table at the Hyatt’s high-end restaurant for nearly ten minutes after the reservation time before her sister finally arrived, utterly exhausted.

“Surprise!” she cried, shoving an open box in her hands. “Totally, 100% bootleg.”

M.J. pulled out a little plastic figure and turned it this way and that. “What’s it suppose to—?”

“It’s you!” Ellen exclaimed. “See, it’s got your rules hat and everything! It also looks like it got plastic surgery to give it lips bigger than the entire rest of its face but hey! It’s the thought that counts! And speaking of that...” And in the blink of an eye, her expression suddenly flipped to earnest. “No apologies! You’re here. You okay?” Ellen asked worriedly.

Mary Jo blinked. “I’m fine,” she said, putting the mini-M.J. aside. “Luke’s latest emergency was nothing of importance, as they often tend to be—I think he was really nervous about his public appearance tomorrow. I had some time to rest my eyes. I look forward to getting a little sleep tonight.”

The still very pink sister relaxed, smiling. “You’d better. You’ve got a game to run, and I want you to be able to enjoy it just as much as the rest of us will.”

“Thanks,” said M.J. “You don’t know how much I look forward to these sessions each year. Reminds me of the old days...the good parts of the old days.” She smiled wanly.

“The parts that weren’t filled with rules arguments, huh?” Ellen tapped her fork against the table, before clearing her throat. “I’m sorry. Not for being obsessed, that’s just me, but...I’m sorry that I’ve let it seem more important than us...than the game. I’ll try to reign it in, and...sorry.”

“Apology accepted,” Mary Jo said with a regal smile. She always reminded Ellen a bit of the artwork of Princess Celestia at times like this.

“I just...I need you to understand how frightened I was, when that all happened. I was so scared, and I just wanted you to be you again. That’s all I want.”

Mary Jo looked way. “The doctors all cleared me. Physical and mental. It was just...stress. All of those people, watching us play. You never seemed to have trouble with that sort of thing, but it was never easy for me. It was like...I could feel their eyes on my back, pressing me into the ground. I...I couldn’t be myself. I had to retreat into another identity, into somebody who could handle it... Well, that’s what the shrinks told me.” She laughed. “It’s behind me now. Behind us now. I’ve never had a relapse, after all.”

Ellan nodded firmly. “Behind but not forgotten... You’re my Celestia, anyway. My amazing Celestia.”

“Well, you better not be my Luna,” Mary Jo retorted. “I believe there is a quite hefty fine for defacing the Moon.”

“And I have been awfully disobedient,” she agreed.

“I’ll have to have Luke add a ‘Royal Pardon’ to that book of forms he keeps bugging me to authorize,” Mary Jo said with a Celestia-worthy smirk. She raised a hand into the air. “Waiter? I believe we are ready to make our orders now.”

Ellen waited until the two of them were alone again, before leaning over the table to whisper to her sister. “I don’t suppose you’re willing to give your favorite sister a hint as to what campaign you’ve written up this year?”

Mary Jo leaned over to whisper in her ear. “Not a chance.”

“Well then...” Ellen rested her head on her hands, smiling. “Could I at least know what character I’ll be playing?”

“Just trust me: you’ll like her. I think I came up with something really good this time, for each of you.”

“Alright. Alright. I suppose I will just have to wait until the tournament.”

“As always. We play this game every year—it was the same thing with the Christmas presents.”

“And I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Chapter 23: Into the Lion's Den

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 24: The Lady...and the Lady

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 24: The Lady...and the Lady

Celestia stood before the sleeping form of Midnight Sparkle, and silently judged her.

Well, she thought glumly to herself. That could have gone better.

She carefully collated her thoughts and conclusions thus far.

First, the mind of Midnight Sparkle was almost certainly locked way. At no point after midnight did the pony before her offer the slightest hint that she knew what was truly going on, especially in the Land of Mists.

That was the major complication. Midnight, this Midnight, had summoned her to be her goddess, and it had actually worked. This went against Celestia’s every conception of what a goddess was supposed to be. She didn’t think she had gained any powers from this transaction—perhaps she would attempt something godlike, when she was far enough away from the gods to think she could get away with it.

Next was the matter of the spirit occupying Midnight’s body. It was Ellen, she was sure of it—the way she had reacted to Celestia’s accusation that they had met before cinched it for her. This was one of the best outcomes of a bad situation. Midnight’s elaborate cloak apparently did nothing, but at least she had gotten the most reasonable and caring of the spirits to deal with.

...Perhaps a little too caring, and Celestia definitely didn’t need that kind of distraction right now.

So, she needed to focus, to keep things clear in her head:

That pony was...Lady Sparkle. Yes, that would do. She certainly wasn’t Midnight, and if she didn’t assign a name now, sooner or later she’d start calling her by her spirit name, and she wasn’t close to being ready for that.

Next, “Hope” and “Celestia” had to be kept distinct, even more distinct than Celestia was already keeping them in her mind. The last thing she needed was for Hope Springs to reveal something that Lady Sparkle had confided in Celestia alone. She thought she could get away with information transfer in the other direction, being a “goddess” and all, but it was easier if she just didn’t risk it.

So...if Midnight was lamentably out of the picture, that meant that Hope needed to continue running her experiment, without letting Lady Sparkle or any of the other possessed adventurers know. Perhaps she should head back to the stable and confide in…

“Good morning, dear Hope. Did you sleep well?”

Hope practically hit the ceiling. “My Lady!” she exclaimed, hitting the ground and instantly putting muzzle to the ground, without hurting herself. “I...I have been guarding you faithfully all evening from...shadows, and other enemies of the Light.”

“Well...I suppose...” Sparkle stood and stretched, with a gracious smile upon her face. “Such are the tasks of a faithful friend. Do you think we could sneak down to get breakfast without being caught? You not supposing to be here and all.”

Hope stood there and blinked for a few moments. “It occurs to me that with your exalted position, you could easily assert the necessity of my appearance without the authorities daring to lift a hoof. Or...I could just carry your plate. Nobles need servants, after all.”

“That sounds quite grand. You can carry my plate, and I can carry yours.”

Hope made an odd little noise that sounded like a frog suppressing a mighty croak.

Sparkle swept a cloak onto her back, and for a moment, it hummed with energy, but Hope caught a glimpse of burned out runes and tattered foil that was all that remained of the protective shielding. It had perhaps done something after all.

Sparkle and Hope came downstairs into a room with about two dozen ponies in it.

As Hope carefully confirmed, all of the servants still had their own eyes, while the adventurers…

“Sis, sis? What’s wrong, sis? Why are you acting all funny?”

It was Copper Plate. She alone of the would-be adventurers still seemed to be herself. The intact nature of the cloak she was wearing was a major clue as to how she accomplished this.

Winter Harvest meanwhile was intently filling her plate at the buffet. “It’s nice talking with you, Sister Dear,” she said in a very stilted way. “But I think you should go now.”

Hope quickly took the initiative. “Copper Plate, perhaps we should head over to the stable. You can stay with your friend Sorrel for a bit. Would that be OK?”

Copper walked over to Hope and Sparkle. “I think she’s broken,” the unicorn confided in them with a whisper. “Keeps saying that her name’s Carry On. What kind of name is—”

“Oh, how fascinating!” Hope exclaimed. “But these ponies are very busy. Come along, now.”

“Yes, I’ll get some food for you, Hope,” the unicorn said earnestly, before trotting off to the buffet to gather two plates in her blue-purple glow.

#

Hope quickly led Copper over to the other building, where Sorrel was waiting at an empty table in that building’s commissary.

“Your friend’s plan didn’t work,” he said as soon as the two ponies had sat beside him. “Chestnut’s gone.”

“Yes, I know,” Hope said quietly. “So is Midnight.”

Copper Plate gasped loudly. “You mean I was giving away secrets to the enemy?!” She pounded her head on the tabletop. “Stupid!”

Hope quickly lifted her up and hugged her. “No, it’s alright,” she assured her. “Her spirit is probably disorientated right now, so I don’t think she really caught on. What I’d like to know, Copper, is what you did last night that your sister Winter didn’t.”

Sorrel’s eyebrows lifted. “You mean that her—”

“Yes,” Hope said with a sad nod.

“I...I didn’t do anything really heroic,” said Copper. “I just stayed up all night, while Winter went to sleep.”

Hope frowned. She very much doubted that Midnight had gone to sleep, either. “Anything else?”

“Well, I thought about everything that you and Midnight told me,” Copper said. “And I worked on my art. And I prayed.”

“You prayed?”

“Yes.”

“Who did you pray to?”

“Well, you didn’t tell me which gods you were fighting for, so I prayed to you.”

“To...to me?” asked Hope incredulously.

“Yes, to you. It was right after the midnight chimes when I started.”

Right after I became a goddess, Celestia thought incredulously to herself. “OK, thank you, Copper. I think that really helps.”

“It does? Super! So, what do we do now?”

“Well…” Hope began, looking over at Sorrel.

The big earth pony sighed. “I guess I could look after her.”

Copper looked up at the other pony, perhaps for the first time. “Are you a superhero too?”

“You bet I am!” Sorrel said proudly. “Now what are you going to do about Chestnut?”

Hope sighed. “I have to stay with Midnight. She’s my friend, and besides, she’s still our best bet for getting through this. I’ll try to get Chestnut into Midnight’s party, but I can’t guarantee anything. The same applies to Winter Harvest...or Carry On, as she’s calling herself now.”

“Seriously?” asked Sorrel.

“I trust you, Hope,” Copper said with a wide smile. “Bring back my sister!”

Hope tussled her mane. “I’ll do all in my power to ensure that,” she said.

Hope had just turned the corner from the eating area in the stable when she blacked out, and appeared as Celestia in the Land of Mists once again.

“What, now?” she asked nopony in particular. She saw the form of Midnight Sparkle walking towards her, and imagined grabbing her distant image and pulling it front and center. She was surprised when this actually happened. Sparkle’s only reaction was a loud squee. She made sure to cover her surprise with an annoyed expression. “Alright, my follower, what is it that you want?”

“Well...first of all, do you want me calling you ‘Celestia’, ‘My Light’, ‘My Lady’, ‘Princess’? I’m not sure there’s a proper term, since I’ve never heard of you being worshipped openly before.” Sparkle sat, though not really having a ground to sit on, gesturing with her hooves and smiling eagerly in anticipation.

“Well, I suppose among others, I am merely the Forsaken Goddess. Is it not true that there are deities out there willing to destroy me if they knew I had followers?” I thought I’d get that disclaimer in before you got yourself in too deep. “And to you I am Celestia, just Celestia. A princess must have subjects, and right now...I’m afraid you’re it. I will not accept being called Mistress.” She was quite stern with this one, especially after Sparkle had to cover up her predatory grin. “The Light and Lady stuff? Hey, if you’ve got to use some misdirection to keep yourself out of unnecessary trouble, by all means. This ‘Forsaken’ business doesn’t take to entirely above-the-board behavior, if you get my meaning.”

The unicorn’s grin faded a little, but she sighed wistfully, leaning forward. “My Lady...I think that I would like that.”

Celestia imagined rolling her eyes, as she realized that the two of them were now in a circular relationship: Sparkle called Celestia Lady, and Celestia as Hope had to call Sparkle Lady as well.

“So, I am also here for guidance,” the unicorn continued. “I have been invited to join a hunt for a foalnapped ducal heir kept captive by a crazy cult in the catacombs beneath this very city. I wish to keep Hope Springs, my retainer, safe but I also wish her to come with me. Should I accept this quest, and if so what shall I do to keep my dear friend protected?”

Celestia raised an eyebrow. “Now, this is interesting—an adventurer putting another’s life before her own, and a lowly servant at that.”

“I am a cleric of yours, My Lady,” Sparkle pointed out, perhaps a bit softly. “I especially honor the protection you give us all. I don’t feel it right to call upon you without serving your goals when you are not towering over me, all shiny-maned and statuesque.” Sparkle smirked, just a bit, looking off into the distance, like she was showing off to an invisible audience...or to another goddess.

“Ah,” Celestia said, recovering. “Well, that’s very good of you. At this rate, the levels will be just speeding by for you. As for this quest, I feel that...wait, isn’t Hoofington built upon solid granite? How could it possibly have a set of catacombs?”

“I know only what I am told, my most brilliant light,” Sparkle said with a low bow.

“Will there be much bloodshed?”

“Oh, great spurting gouts of it, I imagine,” the unicorn tossed off lightly. Then she caught her goddess’ disapproving glare. “But...I will strive only to kill the evil ponies that worship the darkness?”

Celestia sighed. “I suppose that is the best I could expect under the circumstances.”

“Then that is what I shall do. Anything for you, My Lady. Do you have any additional commands for me? I am forever at your service.”

Another short step brought Sparkle up to be standing nearly just below Celestia’s nose, and she could spot the faintest of blushes on her cheeks.

This time, Celestia did not suppress the desire to openly roll her eyes. “Less of a command, and more of a request. There are two who, like Hope Springs, I would appreciate if something was done in their favor: ‘Carry On’ and Chestnut.”

Sparkle accepted the first name without comment, but was genuinely surprised at the second.

“Is...is making sure that Chestnut is cared for by other adventurers enough? Or...should I...should I make sure that Chestnut is brought into the same group I am in? That may be a bit more difficult...”

“I will not ask anything of you that the other gods will not permit,” Celestia said resentfully. “Gods who I cannot even name safely.”

“Oookay. That’s all fine. Do you need a hug before I go, Celestia?” Sparkle asked eagerly.

Celestia coolly reached out with her hoof, and pushed Sparkle back slightly. “No, that will be all.”

“Well, actually, there is one more thing…” Sparkle bowed down, and then cast her eyes upward.

Celestia looked at her, utterly bewildered. “What?”

“Bless me,” Sparkle said. “It’s how I get my spells.”

“Oh!” Celestia exclaimed. “Is that how that works?” She thought for a moment, before bowing lightly down to touch horns. “I bless thee—Aaah!”

The scream was the reaction to the massive bolt of lightning that had flown from Celestia’s horn into Sparkle’s, sending the unicorn flying.

For a moment, Celestia wondered if she had killed her. “Are you alright?” she asked fearfully.

“Thanks! Got a bit of a backup, but I’m good!” the small voice of the distant Sparkle cried, waving a hoof in the air.

Hope stumbled as she returned to her own body. She looked around, expecting to see a large crowd gathered around her unconscious body, but it seemed like nopony had even noticed. Her sense of the sun’s location—absent while she was on another plane—also told her that the entire transaction had been instantaneous.

Hope sighed in relief. This fact somewhat lessened the possibility that Lady Sparkle might discover her dual identity by happening to summon Celestia while Hope was in the same room.

She quickly made her way out of the stable, and back to the Inn.

There, she saw that three parties had gathered together. One party consisted of the members of the group that had once been headed by Soul Cleaver, and then briefly by Skull Fire. Their third leader was the black and white griffon she had seen on a few occasions. Hope had no doubt that the same spirit was now piloting this one as had piloted the other two.

There was a second party that included Chestnut, and other ponies that Hope had never gotten to meet.

And the third group was being organized by Torn Deck, and included Lady Sparkle, Carry On and, rather surprisingly, Burnished Lore.

Hope decided to take care of Chestnut before she lost the chance. She walked along the side of the room opposite Sparkle, to stand next to the members of the second party. Most of them seemed to be busy trading items back and forth. There was also something about an individual with a silenced name. Differing opinions stated that this individual was either “totally awesome” or “majorly bogus”.

The new Chestnut, rather like the old one, wasn’t saying very much. Instead, she was sitting and listening to the stream of words emerging from a brown and green unicorn.

“...Many paths to power or transformations, but the most powerful of them are personal power, spells we can cast and such, those don’t go bad as often, right? So all I have to do is find a way to replicate the really powerful spells that change form temporarily, and make them last longer, and then I could find a way to make any form last longer! Imagine it! No powers, no change to mental state, it’d just be a cosmetic change, maybe a bit of an armor class bump, a breath weapon if it’s allowed, Cutbelt has got to allow something like that, if I tame it down, right? Just a cosmetic [silenced word]. And then I could do all sorts! We could have dragons, and even orcs, or monsters! We could have monster adventurers! Imagine that it would be so cool, I really think that if I could be a dragon then I could really do a lot of things with the racial boundaries of it, an exile among her own kind...”

Hope glanced over to the other group, and saw Sparkle looking over at the unicorn, engaging in a very obvious eye roll. Which was rather odd, as with the distance and all the voices in the room, there should have been no way that she could have possibly overheard that conversation.

With a shake of her head, she turned back to the members of the second group, who were engaged in a massive group hug. This brought a smile to her face. “You take care of Chestnut, OK?” Hope said, walking away.

The group immediately erupted into a panic. Hope looked over her shoulder, and then slowly backed away. She had no idea what happened. Whatever it was, nopony appeared to be looking her way. She made her way over to Sparkle’s shadow, and shrank down.

“Oh! Hello Hope, were those some of your friends?” Sparkle asked, leaning over to speak a bit more privately to her, despite the others in her group obviously being able to hear them. “Decided to pay them a little visit?”

“I...I knew one of them, yes,” Hope said, her eyes passing from one pony to another. “I’m ready to move on now. Um, did something happen while I was gone?”

“I got you breakfast!”

A plate of food settled in front of Hope, and the group promptly went back to planning for their upcoming adventure.

Chapter 25: Panic Control

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 25: Panic Control

A sizeable contingent of the crowd at the Ponies & Dragons showcase were there to cheer on the members of the Young Women’s League Championships. Nearly a hundred different groups of elementary to high school age girls had gone through the agony of having strangers with clipboards watch them play three gaming sessions over the span of nine months, resulting in this group from San Fernando Junior High School advancing to the PonyGameCon Showcase. A similar process had landed Brian’s hand-picked team at the neighboring table. This session was supposed to be a “victory lap” for the winning teams. But for the winning Young Women’s Team, it didn’t look that much like a victory lap anymore.

It was hard for anybody not in the Young Women’s Team to know precisely what happened. The post-lunch session had started out quite animated, with the girls talking excitedly over one another for several minutes. Then, for no apparent reason, the Pony Handler for the group started screaming, and the others joined in.

Mary Jo Powell leapt out of her chair and slid across the polished floor to bump into the leg of the Young Women’s group table. The girls gave out a shriek of surprise, and then quieted down.

M.J. got up, panting a little, with an open smile on her face. “Is everything alright here?” she asked. “I could...no, wait, I will...Break everybody! Fifteen minutes!”

The bewildered young women looked around at each other. It appeared to Mary Jo that not even they were sure what had spooked their PH.

Some of the spectators had walked out. Most of them, however, stayed to see what was going on. The players at the other two tables were standing, looking at Mary Jo and the other PH.

“Would you like to talk about it, Alexia?” Mary Jo asked gently, referring to a paper nameplate beside the girl who was shaking with fear. “If you don’t...that’s alright too.”

Ellen hung back, observing out of concern for what seemed to be a spreading disaster.

“I didn’t...I wasn’t going...to say...I just...A voice, it just came from somewhere in my head...” The last words of the girl’s stuttered declaration were the firmest, and the most terrified.

Mary Jo’s fingers dug into the wood of the table. “I...a voice?” she whispered. She coughed a bit and regained her volume. “That’s uh...very unusual.”

“Alexia, are you alright?” came the voice of someone bounding up onto the stage. M.J. turned to see Dorothy Reichart, the screenwriter who had offered to write up her life story.

The additional stress served to galvanize Mary Jo. “Yes,” she said, loud enough for anyone around to hear. “It gets a little stressful, here on the stage. I’m willing to do whatever you suggest to help you out.” She cast a desperate eye over to Ellen, in hopes that she had a better idea of how to handle this.

Ellen strode forward, taking a knee in front of the little girl, and entirely ignoring the screenwriter hovering over them. “It’s different, on the stage, isn’t it?” she said gently. “All the excitement, sometimes it’s hard not to let it get to you. Would you like me to give you some tips, on how to ignore the crowd?”

“Alexia, are you alright?” asked Mrs. Reichart from behind the two sisters. “Do you need me to take you away from here?” She turned slightly to address Mary Jo’s back. “This is the granddaughter I told you about. This game—”

Mary Jo whirled, and looked at the screenwriter. Her look was less accusation, and more expectation, like she had played this game so many times that she was making a bet with herself as to which outrageous accusation was about to pour out of the elderly woman’s mouth: “...is an obsession”? “...encourages smoking and the wearing of loose clothing”? “...forced me to shell out $1100 a month on pony stabling”? M.J. had heard them all before.

Mrs. Reichart, seeing her expression, shut up and considered exactly what she was going to say.

Alexia looked up to her idols, both of them, offering her help and sympathy, and she scrubbed her tears away to nod resolutely to Ellen. “I want to stay. Can you show me some, Princess?”

Ellen smiled, and calmly took the PH aside to teach her some very useful but ultimately completely unrelated techniques. She already had an inkling that she knew what had happened, and she was determined not to let it happen again.

Mary Jo stood there, watching Ellen the whole time, her hands clasped together, and squeezing, tighter and tighter.

Mrs. Reichart watched Ellen’s speech with a wary eye. When it became clear that her granddaughter was going to go through with the rest of the game, she pulled M.J. aside. “I may not be interested in your life story anymore, Mrs. Powell, but know this: I am now very invested in this story. Understand?”

Mary Jo mutely nodded, then waited for Ellen to finish.

It didn’t take long. Breathing techniques, repeating the names of those you are focusing on, and other such things would help but weren’t complex. Certainly nothing near being able to stop what had just happened. She gave the girl a pat on her back, and she settled back in to review her materials and get her head back into the game, while Ellen moved to form a triangle with her sister and the screenwriter.

“I think we should talk about some ways to make this session a little less stressful,” Mary Jo said curtly, gesturing towards the top of the bleachers. She gave a look to Mrs. Reichart, signaling that her presence was no longer needed.

The woman briefly considered challenging this, before shrugging meekly and returning to her seat.

#

The sisters mutely climbed up the stairs to the little room at the top. Marcus got up and raced after them.

Mary Jo walked right in. Marcus came up to the door, which Ellen was holding. With a contemptuous look, she slammed it in his face and then locked it.

Once inside, Mary Jo let her mask drop. “This is really happening, isn’t it? It’s really happening! The layout of the room...it was Midnight’s retainer, right? But I wrote your sheet! She doesn’t even have a backstory!”

“Hope Springs,” said Ellen. “Generic earth pony brown. Able to speak out of turn. The exact sort of NPC that no one pays any attention to.” She sat down, looking absolutely lost. “I didn’t want to be right...but when I asked for a hug, the first time I met Hope as Midnight...that wasn’t you flinching in response, that was her.”

Mary Jo blinked, looking into the distance. “This whole thing is falling apart,” she said distantly. “First Celestia, then Hope Springs. What next? Will the monsters start actually being able to hurt you?”

They were interrupted by a pounding on the door. “Open up,” demanded Marcus.

They ignored him.

“Of course not!” Ellen said, responding to her sister’s question. “They are connected. Hope and Celestia, the only two who can do this sort of thing. Listen, rush us out the doors of the Inn fast as you can, get the ball rolling. As long as it’s just our party interacting with her, it doesn’t matter.” Ellen grimaced and shook her head. “I mean, it matters because your brain is being invaded by ponies from another dimension who don’t like hugs, but it doesn’t matter game-wise.”

Mary Jo sighed. “I wish I knew some better way of handling this—a spell that works on brainworms.” She laughed. “Look, we are going to try to minimize this. Don’t call Celestia unless you absolutely have to. And you most certainly have my permission to start ignoring Hope. After all, she’s probably going to take care of herself, regardless, am I right?”

“No, no, I... I can’t ignore this, Jojo...Celestia could be the answer to all sorts of questions...she...” Ellen’s voice took on a whisper of fear as she looked to the door. “She came from the time forgotten. All of Equestria did...what if they are the answer to what he did? What if we can find a way to speak with her without an audience of a thousand players? We just have to bide our time. I’ll keep her entertained.”

Mary Jo whimpered. “And what if I don’t want to know?”

Ellen frowned. “You can’t say that. Sooner or later, we have to find out what went down at that commune. Jojo, somebody died over there, right around Halloween of 1970. Died or disappeared without a trace. I haven’t ever been able to track down the details. He might have been some derelict that Marcus picked up off the street, to...to do the sort of things to that we think he might have been doing to us. There’s a lot of things that could be hiding in a memory hole, Sister.”

M.J. caved to her younger sister, and pulled her into an embrace. “I’m so scared,” she whispered.

“Then I’ll do my best to keep the interactions to a minimum. I’ll not dig. I swear this to you, Jojo. I won’t dig until we are in a safe place, okay?”

“Okay,” Mary Jo said softly. Then she looked around her a bit. “Did you bring your mirror?” she asked. “I need to put my eyes back on.”

The compact was quickly flipped out of Ellen’s blue and star studded handbag, and held up for her.

The elder sister put herself back into a presentable state, and they turned to face the door.

“As if you needed another reason not to like the guy,” Ellen remarked.

Mary Jo laughed darkly to herself.

#

Once back at her place at the gaming table—Marcus having returned to his seat—Mary Jo paged through her chosen scenario, “Assassin’s Waltz”, with a growing sense of dread. This was supposed to be a dark comedy, a way for the group to unwind, by killing off a whole lot of ponies who resembled individuals, both in the wider world and in M.J.’s own life, that deserved to be taken down a peg. It went without saying that the mad cult leader was Marcus.

There was no possible way that she was putting Celestia and Hope Springs in that.

Mary Jo stood up. “Handler’s Conference!” she announced.

Most of the crowd groaned, beginning to wonder when the adventures would actually begin.

She turned to the PH of the Men’s table first. “Edgar, I have a confession to make: I deliberately gave the ‘Against the Slavers’ module to you because I knew that it would piss Brian off. I’m going to give you the one your group was meant to have.” She passed over the “Assassin’s Waltz” module to him. “Alexia,” she said next, “I’m well aware that ‘Lost Caverns’ is one of the toughest modules we’ve ever written. Now it’s your choice, but I think that ‘Against the Slavers’ would be more suited to your group. What do you think?”

The young woman looked up silently at Mary Jo for a few seconds, and then turned and walked back to her table to surrender the module.

And I end up with the one that puts us out in the middle of nowhere, perfect for me to contain the situation if it all goes belly up, Mary Jo thought to herself with a smile.

#

As could be easily predicted, the Young Women’s and Men’s tables were now stalled, as two Pony Handlers had to quickly read modules they had never even seen before.

Mary Jo, on the other hand, was much more comfortable. She had written this scenario herself, had actually travelled to a number of places that inspired the locations in this adventure. She could practically see them in her head.

#

Alexia paged through the sermonizing and overly-simplistic module that she was now stuck with. The adventure seemed to spend every other page teaching the lesson that slavery was wrong. She had spent a week putting together a complete binder full of notes on how she was going to make “Lost Caverns” one of the best adventures ever, adding plenty of the whimsical fantasy elements that were a major part of why her team was up here on this stage.

The girl to her right, Sally, reached out to take Alexia’s hand. “What’s wrong?” she asked.

“This...it’s too simple,” Alexia sighed, letting the pages fall shut as she covered her face with her hands and sighed. “It’s nothing compared to that adventure we were about to run, and I was so ready for that one...but Mary Jo said...”

Sally shrugged. “Yeah. But I don’t really see what the problem is.” She reached into her backpack and removed a duplicate copy of “The Lost Caverns of Soap Candy”, still wrapped in plastic. “I bought it this morning,” she said with a shrewd little smile.

“Um, can we like, do that, Lex?” asked Erica, the girl on Alexia’s left, a blonde haired and green eyed girl who wore a loose green cape. “Can two groups play the same game at the same time?”

Alexia took up the booklet, looking it over with contemplation.

“There’s no rules against it...” said Sally.

“We should totally do this,” said Erica. “That’d be rad.”

Alexia looked to the other table at the far side of the stage, biting her bottom lip. “Yes, I can do it. I’ll just make it mine in my own way,” she explained, smiling to her group as they were invigorated by her enthusiasm. “My own style. Let’s do this.”

Almost immediately upon rejoining Sparkle, Celestia suddenly found herself back in the place with the fluffy clouds. She waited patiently for Sparkle to show up, but nothing happened.

“Hello?” she called out. “Was anypony calling me?”

No response.

Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard the sounds of a distant conversation. She waited for the speakers to become close enough for her to make them out clearly, and then she set out to find them herself, but with no luck.

She wondered for a moment if she had finally been found out, and thrown into this place to get rid of her. She started pacing nervously in a tight circle, bracing herself for a loud voice of accusation, a compulsion to sleep...anything.

After a few moments of nothing worse happening to her, she decided that panic would be unproductive. As the perceived minutes stretched on, she used her mind to pluck off a bit of the cloud-like material around her, and sculpted it into a bust of Luna.

“Hmm…” she said, staring into the bust’s empty eye sockets.

M.J. flipped idly through the pages of her chosen scenario. “This one’s harder than what I was originally planning,” she said, looking right at Ellen, “but I think under the circumstances that it is the best choice. However, we’ll need to promote Hope Springs to a full member of the party. I’ll be playing her. Is that alright?”

The others didn’t appear to have any objections.

“So, just so we can stay immersed…” said Mary Jo, trying to sound uninterested, “...why don’t you give Hope the good news, Midnight Sparkle?”

“Ah, of course! Midnight Sparkle waits until Hope has finished her breakfast before turning to her. ‘Hope, dear! We have decided to journey out with this group of ours. My newly made friends and we shall be heading out in search of...things. And we want you to be a full equal in our party.’ Sparkle then passes Hope a spare set of adventurer’s gear. Standard list, rope and torches and rations, right Jojo?”

Ellen did this all the time, helping to introduce characters, and develop plot hooks in cooperation with her sister. She glanced up to see what Jojo was doing.

Mary Jo’s pencil raced across the blank character sheet, filling in detail after detail. Her other hand picked up the dice to determine attributes and shook them out, again and again. Her hand jerked in odd ways to make particular numbers come up at particular times. Once she had finished, she dropped the pencil and rubbed her hand as she looked over what she had just finished. Suddenly she laughed out loud.

“Oh, um, nothing,” she said sheepishly to the others. “Sometimes I just knock myself out.”

Printed in Hope Springs’ Personal Deity square was “Herself.”

Chapter 26: Orientation

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 26: Orientation

“And we want you to be a full equal in our party,” Sparkle concluded.

“What?!” Hope Springs cried out in panic, falling to the floor. She looked wildly around her, steeling her mind against what she was sure to be imminent mental possession.

She felt something, but it wasn’t a shock to the mind, but rather to the body. A surge of energy poured into her. Like two times before, she felt stronger, more confident in her abilities. And there was something else…

“My...my cutie mark!” she exclaimed, looking down at the image of a sun rising over a distant mountain on her flank. “I…”

“Indeed! As an adventurer, you have earned your cutie mark! Congratulations, but I don’t think that we have time for a party. OK so everypony has everything we need, any shopping to be done before we head out as a group?” Carry On asked.

Burnished Lore stepped forward. “Well,” he said in a voice dripping with contempt, “you could stop to hear me tell you where we are going and why, yes?”

“Right, yes, of course,” Carry bowed with an unperturbed smile.

“In the chaotic years following the disappearance of—” At this point he suddenly stopped, and looked up in the sky to catch some look of cosmic disapproval that Hope could not. “But...but that’s what it says!” He sighed dramatically before continuing. “Once upon a time,” he said dryly, “the evil sorceress Eggswife held Northern Equestria in a veritable reign of terror, centered on the Caverns of Soap Candy, the location of the source of her mystic power. Decades passed before she was finally undone by her own hubris!” Burnished punctuated this last line by casting a wing to the heavens. “A demon, Grazer, who she had enslaved for her amusement, finally managed to free itself. In their apocalyptic struggle, Eggswife was mortally wounded, and Grazer was only just prevented from laying waste the, entire, world!”

At the back of the group, Hope raised an eyebrow. She wondered if they still gave out the Annual Stink awards, because whoever was possessing Burnished Lore sure looked like he was aiming for all of the acting categories. “And then what happened?” she asked after a full minute, having figured out that he was waiting for somepony to say that.

“As the sorceress was dying, she used the last of her power to hide away her trove of magical treasures, including Howard’s Torch of Miracles—an artifact said to cure whole armies of dying soldiers, or cause whole armies to start dying, depending on which way you slid the little switch on the side.”

“The exact location of the caverns are unknown to the general public,” Carry On said, taking up the narrative. “However, the frequent appearances of strange treasures and works of art over the decades made it clear that the thieves, at least, knew where it lay.

“Recently, the Thieves' Guild learned that one of their own had been snatched from a caravan and tortured into revealing the location of the caverns to the mad General Stride Eater of the Army of the Earth Pony Nation. He is leading his army on a mad dash to break into the caverns and recover Howard's Torch.”

Hope noted that Carry On was a great deal less animated, and more believable, than Burnished Lore.

“The Guild, which has been carefully guarding the caverns to prevent any of its more dangerous artifacts from seeing the light of day, has authorized me to travel to the Inn to hire you four to accompany me. Your goal will be to find and relocate the artifacts, before the Army arrives. In return for pledging to accomplish this goal, the Guild will let you keep 85% of all mundane and low-powered treasure you find in the caverns. Rest assured that a new hiding place is being prepared by a group of volunteers willing to have their memories wiped at the end of the adventure. It is assumed that the place will probably be blown up or something, just to be safe.”

“Or something?” asked Burnished Lore skeptically.

“That’s what it says!” Carry On protested, pointing at an empty space before her.

“Ooooor, I could find another way to get rid of it,” Midnight mumbled with a grin.

Torn Deck looked around him nervously. “This sounds pretty dangerous,” he said. “I’m not sure we’ll be able to handle this with such a small party.”

“OK, two things,” said Carry On, after consulting another invisible note. “First of all, I’ve got a bunch of goodies for you.” She turned around and produced a box from behind her back that wasn’t there before.

Ponies reached in to remove weapons, potions, armor, and sundry other items, several of them helpfully glowing to indicate their magical nature.

“And second, I’ve brought along a couple of helpers, courtesy of the Guild. May I introduce Facet and Itty Bitty.”

Facet was a deep blue unicorn with a long white mane kept in a bun on her head. She was wearing a miner’s overalls.

Itty Bitty on the other hoof was the shy white pegasus from the Castle of the Two Sisters tour a couple of days earlier. It was hard to tell with how quietly she spoke, but it appeared she was a ranger.

“So I hear you’re a fellow cleric,” Facet said to Midnight Sparkle. “Perhaps we could compare notes sometime?” She brushed a hoof against the holy symbol she wore. Most holy symbols were made out of silver, because of the metal’s magical properties. Facet appeared to have skipped the middlemare, because her holy symbol was just an ingot of silver.

Sparkle smirked in reply, holding up a golden sigil of a sun that hung around her neck. “Unless you submit to the power of the sun, and its caretaker, then I see you as another adventurer in need of salvation, nothing more,” she said serenely, before raising an eyebrow and looking to the rest of the group. “So, we good to go now? I’m eager to get to the running and the shouting and the craziness.”

“I’m not,” said Hope quietly. She turned and...

The group arrived at a narrow pass in the northern Unicorn Range, a map spread out before them.

Hope wheeled around quickly, her eyes wide.

“Railroad us, why don’t you?” Burnished mumbled as he looked down at the map. “So, is there a good reason why the Guild-supplied map of the area doesn’t actually spell out where the Caverns are located?”

“Well, naturally they wouldn’t have recorded its exact location,” Carry piped up. “To keep it from being found!”

“Of course,” Burnished said dryly.

“Is...is nopony going to explain what just happened?” Hope asked.

“Look,” Burnished cut in, looking over at where the constellation of Orion would be in the sky if the sun were to wink out for a second. “I wasn’t expecting overland travel when I picked my spells this morning...or however many mornings ago. I need to switch them out. Can we camp here before going in, Cutbelt?”

“Oh, all right.”

Hope’s eyes darted from right to left. No pony had uttered those words. In fact, they seemed to come from the direction of Orion.

A hoof rested against her withers, causing her to jump. “What?” she asked, looking into Sparkle’s face.

“Relax!” Sparkle assured her. “I’m sure things are a bit intense right now, this being your first adventure and all. But in this case I would recommend doing a lot of listening. Let us know if you have any ideas, but weird things like the gods...well, um...that’s not that strange for us adventurers.”

“Yeah!” Carry On added with a laugh. “Just, shush unless you have something so important that you could say it would... act as... a hook? For a theoretical...plot?” The thief laughed and dodged a smack from Sparkle.

Hope’s shoulders slumped. “All right,” she said. “I guess I’ll set up camp and stand first watch.”

“Hope,” Burnished said, putting a hoof over hers. “The adventure hasn’t started yet, so we get tonight for free. Nopony has to stand watch.”

Hope looked at him slack jawed for a second, then slowly shook her head in resignation. “Your rules,” she said, walking over to the pile of supplies.

#

Hope turned in and settled herself for the inevitable call of her other self.

Eventually, after the sounds in the neighboring tent had died down, she saw Sparkle’s silhouette kneeling down and praying.

A second later, Celestia and Sparkle appeared in the Astral Plane.

“Are you okay? You been busy?” Sparkle asked in an odd tone.

“I live in a land of fluffy pink clouds,” Celestia said with a straight face. “There’s not all that much to do.”

“Hmm...I’d like to refresh my spells, but I do have a special ability once a day, where I can speak with you without coming here, would you like if I spoke to you? So you aren’t just sitting here?” Sparkle trotted around, looking at the clouded puffs.

Celestia put on a smile behind Sparkle’s back, that almost looked creepy. “You would like me, to get inside of your head?” She then smiled warmly. “Sure, I give you permission. Think about the sun, and I’ll be there.”

Of course, she had no idea if that would actually work, but assuming that the gods were running things, and since she appeared to be amusing them right now, she saw no reason why it wouldn’t.

“That sounds good, also...my retainer is now an adventurer. I would like it if you were to keep her safe. I don’t know what I’d do if she was hurt,” Lady Sparkle said, with genuine concern, as she admired a bust of Luna that she had found.

“I’ll do what I can,” Celestia said. “Although since she isn’t one of my clerics, my help will be indirect. What, exactly...is she, anyway?”

“A fighter,” said Sparkle.

Celestia rolled her eyes. “Of course. She’s a fighter. Is there a god of fighters?” Because if there is, she thought to herself. He’s going to be very disappointed.

“There is, but she wouldn’t worship her. Celestia, is there anything I can do to help you in the next day? Before I can see you again?”

Celestia looked over at the bust of Luna, and then back down at Sparkle. “Just...try to think of what I would do in a particular situation, and then try to do a little better than that. And don’t destroy the world with that little artifact you’re chasing.”

“Yes, My Light. I will strive to do so.” Sparkle bowed to her god, and with another lightning bolt, she was gone.

Celestia remained in the Astral Plane. She felt that she could return to being Hope at any moment she wished, but for now she dallied. For one thing, it appeared that without Sparkle that there were no longer gods watching her here.

“Let’s see…” she murmured to herself. “What do gods do in their spare time?” She spread her hooves out in a circle before her, and a black disc appeared.

She raised an eyebrow in slight surprise. “Show me the camp,” she said, and an overhead image of the tents appeared before her.

She tapped a hoof to her chin for a few seconds. Then she put on her “cheating smile”. “Show me the location of the Lost Caverns of Soap Candy,” she ordered.

Chapter 27: The Hermit

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 27: The Hermit

At this point in the adventure, Mary Jo Powell got up and walked over to the little table with the Apple II personal computer on it. After a few minutes, the always disconcerting sound of a modem connecting could be barely heard, and a few minutes after that, there was the click of a disconnection. Since the snacks tray was right there, she also loaded up. Having done all this, Mary Jo walked back to the Founder’s Group table, fueled her players, and made her report.

A few minutes later, Alexia Reichart also strolled over to the snack table. None of the Founders managed to notice her using the Apple II.

Hope and her companions were awakened by a small earthquake. The disguised Celestia, knowing that the Unicorn Range was geologically unstable, would have made nothing of this, if not for the extreme distrust with which Torn Deck, Carry On, Burnished Lore and Midnight Sparkle treated the constellation of Orion upon the conclusion of the brief temblor. Strangely, Facet and Itty Bitty didn’t appear to have any reaction whatsoever. Also, everyone seemed to have their mouths full...of absolutely nothing.

The quake served as the signal for something even more interesting to begin. High over the mountains, two dragons began engaging in a mid-air battle. Both of the dragons appeared to be females. The larger of the two combatants was a cobalt blue in color, and shot bolts of lightning out of her mouth. The smaller dragon was pure black and preferred to use her claws to fight, but was also capable of spitting acid.

As the adventurers watched, the black dragon managed to escape the clutches of the blue dragon, shooting high into the sky. Deliberately curling her right wing inward, she then descended in a chaotic spiral. The other dragon tried to block, but unable to predict precisely where her opponent was going to hit, she was struck wide, crashing into a mountain peak. The black dragon moved in quickly for hit after hit, and finally the blue dragon was forced to flee.

Burnished Lore consulted his map. “Alright, I think it’s logical to conclude that there’s probably a dragon lair in these hills,” he said.

Hope kept her eyes glued on the black dragon as it slowly descended out of sight. “Firebelle…” she said, in a mixture of hope and dread.

“Hey!” Brian called from the next table. “Is somebody using my character?”

All of Hope’s companions looked simultaneously in a direction that was not Orion or the Winter Hexagon. Then they shrugged as one and looked back up the path.

“So, into the mountains we go, avoid the dragons, find the caverns... What god do you claim, exactly?” Midnight asked the other cleric. “Do they offer any help with divination or mines?”

“My god is Kelogto of the Underdark,” Facet said proudly. “He is the god of miners.”

“Good, good. So, we need you tossing down a detect secret doors as we get into the mountains, every few minutes or so, as long as we aren’t in empty fields. Do you have any other skills that will help us find the place?”

“Kelogto is...less than pleased with my recent foray into woodworking,” Facet admitted sheepishly. “He’s communicating with me strictly through his servant, Smudge. But I know the language of the stone giants! If we meet one, I’m sure he’ll tell us where the caverns are located.”

Sparkle looked a bit confused, before she shook her head and looked up into the mountains. “Woodworking... Okay, then let’s get going.”

#

The group had been walking for several hours when three brown bears emerged from a narrow gorge. They raised their noses in the air and sniffed.

Sparkle, Carry On, Torn Deck, Burnished Lore and Facet all looked at the ranger.

“Bears!” screamed Itty Bitty, diving behind the others for protection. It was easily the loudest thing they had ever heard her say.

“Is that...really? Come on, try calming them down or something, I don’t want to hurt them,” Sparkle said with a frown, turning to look at the ranger. “That’s got ‘recklessness’ written all over it.”

“No treasure, little experience...I’m with the sun cleric,” said Torn Deck laconically.

“Oh, well...I’ll try,” the pegasus ranger said, stepping forward cautiously. “Hello, fellows…” she said.

“That one’s the mother,” Hope pointed out helpfully.

Itty Bitty gave her a brief glare, and then was instantly sorry about it. “What is it that you want?” she asked, turning back to the animals standing in their way.

The largest of the bears sniffed, and then pressed his nose into Itty Bitty’s saddlebag, and pulled out a sandwich.

“They’re hungry,” she explained.

“Yeah, we kinda figured that out,” said Burnished.

“I don’t have Create Food today, do you, Woodworker?” Sparkle asked, relaxing a bit as the bears seemed to be passive.

“Nope,” said Facet, looking just a little peeved at the “woodworker” comment. “However,” she said, looking over at Burnished Lore. “I happened to peek at Mr. Lore’s spellbook and…”

“And what?” Burnished said, scowling. “My spells are my business! Especially the ones I crafted myself.”

“Such as?” prompted Torn Deck.

The mage rolled his eyes. “...Such as Burnished Lore’s Magnificent Bowl of Plenteous Ice Cream.”

Sparkle laughed, putting a hoof over her mouth to muffle it. “That’s...I like that, you’re pretty rad, Lore. Any chance you could pop some ice cream out of the Demi-Plane of Frozen Treats for these poor bears?”

“I...I was going to save it for tonight, but very well.” With a flourish of his wings, he suddenly produced a sparkling bowl the size of a small trough filled with vanilla and strawberry ice cream. There was plenty of chocolate syrup and sprinkles, and a couple of candles were stuck into the scoops, sending sprays of prismatic sparks flying skyward. “I don’t suppose the bears would appreciate the candles,” he muttered, removing them.

“That...is really rather magnificent,” Hope admitted.

#

After leaving the bears to their dessert—and soon afterwards stopping for lunch—the party continued, onwards and upwards.

An hour’s journey took them to the aftermath of an avalanche that had destroyed half of the road. The party very carefully edged their way across the half that was left.

“Hey, look down there!” Torn Deck said, pointing downwards. At the bottom of the ravine, a claw and part of a wing stuck out from the rock pile that had fallen off of the mountain.

“Looks like a roc, from the size of it,” observed Burnished Lore. “I wonder if it was part of a mated pair?”

The other members of the party kept their eyes on the sky for the next half hour, but nothing larger than a hawk was spotted.

#

As they came around a bend in the path, a giant stone pony stood in the way, his hooves spread to completely block all passage. He glared down at them, his head lowered.

“Ha!” exclaimed Facet. “I knew taking that vocational language course would pay off!” She walked up to the giant, and engaged him in conversation in a foreign language.

She said something polite.

He attempted to squash her into the dirt with a hoof, but she easily dodged. “Do not be alarmed,” she called over her shoulder. “That’s how they say hello.”

She raised a hoof and complimented him, possibly on his high density.

The giant laughed at the pun.

“This is surreal, I wonder if it has a circulatory system,” Sparkle mumbled, chuckling quietly to herself.

Hope jerked her head over to stare incredulously at Sparkle for what she had just said—it was a very Midnight thing to say.

Facet continued to speak with the stone giant, pointing in various directions.

The giant shrugged.

Facet pounded the ground in fury, but immediately afterwards composed herself. “A...momentary setback. I just need to inform him of the name of this particular mountain range, and he’s sure to remember where the Lost Caverns are.”

At this point, Torn Deck and Carry On sat down to start playing cards. They eventually coaxed Itty Bitty into joining in.

Facet pulled at her hair bun. “How could you not know!” she screeched, forgetting her language for a bit. “You said you just came out of there last week!”

A few minutes later, their conversation was completed. The giant pulled a small—for him—tube out of a nearby rock and gave it to Facet, before sliding down the slope.

Facet sat down wearily next to the card players. “I told him about a quartzite vein so he wouldn’t try to rob us like he originally planned,” she said. “He gave us a scroll he couldn’t read.”

“Oooh, divine or arcane?” asked Midnight. “If it’s divine then...well, I guess that you could use it, Facet. I’m sorry about the ‘woodworker’ joke.”

“Awww! Why thank you,” Facet said as she spread open the scroll. After looking at it for a moment, she frowned and used her magic to toss it across to Burnished Lore. “It’s for you,” she said.

Burnished examined it briefly, with a surprised look on his face. “Shocking Hug, and...Big Bee’s Crushing Hoof,” he said. “I could use these. You have my permission to thank that stoney friend of yours if you ever see him again.”

Facet frowned. “Yeah, I’ll be sure to do that.”

Hope remained quiet through this exchange. Big Bee was one of Rigged’s siblings, that day when Celestia emerged from Kammy’s cave. He had been burned by the dragon, and healed by Rigged. She wondered if he had written that scroll himself, and by what series of steps it had ended up in the possession of a stone giant in such a desolate location.

Sparkle chuckled as Bernie put the scroll away. “So, if someone used that scroll on you, Bernie, would that be irony, or repayment for many a crushed adventurer?”

Oddly, Sparkle watched Hope as she said this, as though trying to hint something subtly.

Burnished cleared his throat and walked past the others, using his wings to push them aside. “Let’s get out of here, Sparkle,” he said.

“Let’s get out of here, Rigged,” Big Bee insisted.

Hope narrowed her eyes and looked closely at the pegasus as he continued walking away from the group. She then turned her gaze upon each of the others. How many more of the Bees’ players are in this very group? she asked herself.

Carry On just rolled her eyes, a scythe twirling in her wingfeathers.

Hope did a double take. Where did that come from? she asked herself incredulously. She remembered that Winter Harvest had carried a scythe, but hadn’t seen it since before she had been possessed.

“A quartzite vein?” Carry asked. “As though he would have had a chance to rob us. So! We need to get into those caverns...I don’t see an entrance ‘round here, so we go, right? My faithful team?”

Torn Deck looked down at his cards. “But I’ve got a really good hand here!”

#

The party travelled a bit further before reaching a crossroads. The main path did a switchback from southwest to west, while two smaller trails led northeast and southeast.

Carry was beginning to get annoyed with the traveling, and had taken to trotting with her scythe out, glaring at landmarks and features of the road, rather than letting out her anger on the team.

Hope stopped. “Somebody else...I mean, somebody’s watching us,” she announced quietly, keeping her head down. “Above us, from the northern slope.”

“Hmm...” Sparkle didn’t look up, but she did cast a spell. It shimmered around Hope, and the disguised alicorn had the curious feeling of her own protective magic being put around her by another pony.

“In case it’s an ambush... Does anyone have eyes on them?” Sparkle said.

Carry tried to sneak a glance upwards without being caught doing it.

It was getting into the late afternoon, and the long shadows up in the mountains meant that there were all kinds of places overhead that could be cave entrances, but probably weren’t. The spark that Carry finally saw was from within one of these “caves”. The glint could just be some feldspar being caught by an errant sunbeam. The good news was, whatever it was, it wasn’t big enough to hide a certain black dragon.

“Not the dragon for sure, but I can’t tell what it is besides that. Do we want to turn this into a reverse ambush?” Carry asked the group as a whole.

Sparkle looked to Hope, rather than suggesting anything.

“It already knows we’re here,” Hope said quietly. “So a ‘reverse ambush’ would just be asking for trouble. I suppose, if you insist on a confrontation, that the pegasi could try to get a height advantage…”

“I’d...rather not,” said Itty Bitty.

“I’d prefer we just camped,” said Burnished. “We’ve been walking all day.”

Hope looked at the last of the party’s three pegasi.

Carry sighed. “I don’t like the idea of waiting to be attacked, but...if we give them the appearance of being unaware maybe we can avoid any real fighting. Let’s camp.”

“Oh dear,” said Facet. “Perhaps you should have informed me not to be staring vigilantly at that little hole in the mountain for the past five minutes.”

The looks on Carry and Sparkle’s faces could only be summed up by the phrase “Why would you do that?” But they remained quiet.

“What?” Facet protested. “She could have snuck out at any moment!”

Hope blinked a couple of times in realization. “Facet, can you see what’s up there?”

“Of course I can see what’s up there!” replied the white-maned unicorn. “Why would I waste my time staring at that unkempt little mare if I couldn’t see her?”

“It’s a pony?” asked Torn Deck.

“Yes,” said Facet. “She’s wearing a brown cloak and sandals. Well, she was before she retreated back into her little cave. She could be wearing anything right now for all I know.”

“Okay, so we send someone up there to offer a peaceful meeting. Any objections?” Sparkle asks.

“None,” said Burnished. “Especially if she’s running a bed and breakfast up there. I do not relish the thought of another night in my sleeping bag.”

Carry slipped her scythe back into her saddlebag.

Hope performed another double-take on seeing this, until she remembered the bottomless treasure chest that Soul Cleaver’s party possessed.

After putting her weapon away, Carry On silently took to the air, arcing toward the mountain crevice. She landed a few pony lengths from the cave and called out. “My name is Carry, I come in peace. Take me to your leader and all that jazz.”

“No solicitors!” cried out a weary voice, as a large wooden door was swung into position, blocking off the cave entrance.

“I’m not selling. Maybe buying? Do you have things to sell? Um, I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise. My team down there doesn’t want a fight, we don’t want to get pounced on either...”

“Not interested,” said the voice. “Not in buying, not in selling, not in fighting, nor in pouncing!”

“What about in secrets? What about in the caverns?” Carry asks. “We are on an important mission!”

“Not in secrets, not in caverns! I care not for missions inspired by visions!”

“What about those inspired by an emergency? A great weapon needs to be removed from the path of a crazed horde!”

The door opened, and an angry old unicorn mare poked her head out. “Weapons! That’s the problem with this world—too many weapons! Even I was a weapon once. But no more!” She pulled the door back shut. “No solicitors! Now go away!”

“What color are her eyes?!” Hope cried out from down below.

“But...we want to get rid of the weapon, ma’am. Ugh...Ma’am, what color are your eyes?”

The door opened once again, and the purple-eyed unicorn glared at the floating pegasus. “That’s a mighty personal question to be asking me before our first date!” She then laughed madly and darted back inside.

Carry tried to put a hoof in the open door to keep it open, but missed. She then called back down.

“Purple! She’s purple eyed, is that important?”

Hope had been using her “pegasus eye” trick the second time the unicorn had emerged, and had managed to get a good look at her. “I dunno,” she said, looking right at Sparkle as she directed her words at Carry On. “What does it say on her mailbox?”

Carry On turned her head five degrees to the left to look at the mailbox that was there the whole time, and facehooved. “It’s...it’s Nestoria the Valiant.”

“NOT VALIANT ANYMORE!” cried the voice on the other side of the door.

“Geez, what are the odds?” asked Burnished Lore. “Isn’t she supposed to be at the bottom of a volcano?”

“She always was tenacious,” Sparkle said wistfully. “Let’s go chat with her. It’s been a long time.”

She started trotting up toward the cave without worrying about the rest of the group, though they reluctantly followed her.

“So,” Hope asked Sparkle on the way up, “did Nestoria get anything named after her?”

“Um...a mountain range, a lake that she once boated across in the dead of winter, the volcano she supposedly fell into...a few mentions in the Player’s Handbook...”

Hope was a little amazed that every one of the pauses in Sparkle’s speech represented legitimate quiet moments, and not words that were being censored from her. It appeared that she was an adventurer after all. Then the earth pony considered the first part of what she had actually been told. “Really?” she asked Sparkle with a sarcastic tone. “They named the spot of her supposed death after her? How considerate.” Only then did she take in Sparkle’s final words. They have a handbook? I thought everything was in pamphlet form.

By then they had arrived.

“Excuse me, Nestoria? I’ve studied your adventures, and I would like to say in person, you were pretty rad. But how did you survive the Delicate Volcano?” Sparkle called through the door.

There were a few moments of silence, and then the door was pulled open.

The old mare before them looked extremely tired. “It’s a property of superheated lava that when subjected to magical stress, it creates survivable air pockets,” she said. “As a geologist, you’d think that somepony would know that!”

“Well,” Sparkle chuckled. “This time ‘round I’m not a geologist. Would you mind if we came in and had tea? We are seeking a peaceful path through the conflict at hoof.”

Nestoria’s expression softened. “How can I possibly say no to you?” she asked, letting them in.

#

A few minutes later, the ponies had made themselves comfortable around a small fireplace. An enchantment pulled the smoke through a little chimney to the outside.

“Normally, I’d tell my guests some stories about my younger days,” Nestoria said, stirring her tea. “I imagine that would be a waste of time in your case.”

“Yes, well...your stories are still beautiful,” said Sparkle softly. “They might not be necessary in this case, but...it’s nice to see you Nestoria, without even having to use a mirror. How have you been these last...” She frowned. “Bajillion years? How long has it been since the volcano?”

Nestoria precisely matched her frowning expression. “It’s hard to tell. I haven’t exactly been keeping track since I found this place.”

“Fifty years ago,” said Hope. “That was when the portrait at Bee Villa was painted.” She was taking in this entire encounter in a quiet awe, seeing a pony, and the alien who had once possessed that pony, having a civil conversation.

“That long?” Nestoria asked. “I knew those healing potions the villagers used on me were good, but I did not expect I’d still be around fifty years after my prime! That was thanks to you, I expect. They were very grateful. I could have had seven or eight husbands from that tribe, if I wanted!” She cackled to herself for a few seconds.

“Well, you were worth having, Nestoria. Those days...well, it was a different time. I’m a sun worshipper now!” Sparkle held up her golden sun pendant, smiling.

“You mean you’re an open sun worshipper now. You always used to sneak little suns into the O’s in my signature. Like you thought nopony would notice!”

Translation Note: Not actually an O, of course. Equish uses a completely different alphabet than English. More like a nicker than an “Oh” sound.

Sparkle blushed and waved a hoof. “A more peaceful life in a way, being open about it. My time with you was much more exciting though. More magic explosions and sword swinging.”

“Or magic sword explosions,” Nestoria said dryly. “Quenched Steel came out here once, to have me sign ‘Slicer II’. He swore that this one would last ‘one hundred whacks, or your money back.’ I gave him a piece of your mind.”

Another giggle from Sparkle, as a bored Carry sighed, laying on the floor and staring at the ceiling. “Come on, we need to talk about the caverns eventually, this meetup can’t be all nostalgia. Heh, heh...‘Nestoria Nostalgia’.”

“Oh hush, Carry,” said Burnished, looking around him at his remarkably cozy surroundings, given that they were once the sides of a literal hole in the wall. “I wanted a bed and breakfast, and this pillow here is as a close as I can reasonably expect to get.”

“No, no, your friend asked for a story, so I guess I’ll give it.” The aged unicorn looked out into the distance. “This was...oh, right around when I moved in here. A damn fool party of adventurers...heh, heh, ‘damned’. I think you left that word behind in my head when you moved out! Anyway, they were little more than thieves. Tried to sneak in there and make a name for themselves. Passed this cave on the way in, and on the way out. There were four of them that went in, but...well, let me show you what’s left.”

She got up and pulled a chest out from under her bed, removing a tattered piece of parchment. “This was all that was left of her journal,” she said, passing the page over to them. A fair portion of it was impossible to make out, thanks to tears, blobs of dried tar, or, in the two biggest spots...dried blood.

“The small cave was the se?ret,” the readable portion began, “for in back, hidden by…” (This was the tar blotch.) “...and we descended. There was no certain path, so we…” (Hole.) (Another hole.) “...and this is told of above. For ?t was where Trotter and Scout met their fate.

“Our persistence paid. The right way was beyond and narrow, so…” (Blood.) “...eam lies straight pas…” (Another part of the same blood stain.) “...pe the span swiftly to plunge to doom where the wat…” (Another hole, practically separating the parchment into two halves. A whole paragraph must have lurked within it.)

“They were right. It is more dismal here than above. Only the two of us sur…” (Tar blob.) “We pray to the Forsaken One, that the lucky…” (Hole.) “...is true, for we are now going to attempt entry for…” (Hole.) “...of no help. I alone managed to escape.”

The last paragraph is written in a more desperate style than the others: “Why did we…” Blood. So much blood. Only one word of a lengthy paragraph survives. But what a word: “...beautiful.”

Sparkle set it down to let the others look at it, and sighed. “I’d rather talk about your past, than this one’s past...A dark incident for sure.”

“Keep it,” the old unicorn said after Torn Deck tried to return the piece of parchment to her. “I...I remember sitting by the fire with my grandparents. I was the only filly I knew to have two surviving grandparents, and I was inordinately proud of that fact, like I had anything to do with it! I remember the year with the early snow, and how my brother Chalcidice built me a sled, that lasted over I don’t know how many rocks hidden in that snow!” She looked around her, and sighed. “And I remember looking around at this place, and thinking of all of the ponies that I had already outlived. It’s been...it’s been a really long time, and I’ve done a lot of really dumb things, only half of which you’re responsible for. But it was a good run.”

“Well, I’m glad it’s only half,” Sparkle sighed with a smile, putting a foreleg around Nestoria’s withers. “But now...we have to go into the caverns, retrieve a crazy weapon of some sort, and get back out. Any tips? I’d rather not lose anypony.”

Carry On had resorted to poking Itty Bitty in the side with a stick for entertainment.

“The caverns are sitting on a hole,” Nestoria told them. “A space between spaces, leading into the Great Beyond. It’s where Eggswife pulled her power from...and her servants. That’s why the place is so crazy. There’s at least two levels to the Caverns. Oh, I suppose you have one of the maps?”

“One of the maps?” asked Torn Deck, as Burnished Lore passed the piece of parchment to her.

“Yeah, these things just pop into existence all up and down the valley.” She shook her head sadly. “I think you can probably figure out the reason,” she added darkly. She held the map over the fire for a few moments, as words began to appear in one corner:

The horn of Eggswife
Pierces the Heart—
Look over your Shoulder
Before you Start.
How many Grieve?
Foolish Colts,
Because they Didn’t
Turn back Then.

“Eggswife’s Horn is the name for the tallest mountain in the range,” Nestoria said. “It’s dead south of here. The dragon lives on its peak.”

“Which one?” Sparkle asked cautiously. “We saw two battling on our way up.”

“The victor, I imagine,” the old unicorn replied. “The blue one that used to live there has had to find someplace else to live.”

“Alright.” Sparkle embraced the elderly adventurer, and held her tight for a moment. “You see me coming back this way and I don’t remember you...give me directions to the city. But I’d better make it through,” Sparkle gave a daredevil smile, letting go and standing on her own.

“You’ve never let one of us down yet,” Nestoria said. “If the world’s depending on it, you’ll pull through. Are you sure you don’t want to spend the night? It’s a bit cramped, and I doubt I have much that you would consider nourishing to eat...”

“It’s plenty. Place to sleep without taking shifts, I’m down,” Carry said as she settled into a blanket that had appeared from her small saddlebags.

Sparkle nodded and shrugged. “It looks like my group wants to take you up on your offer.”

Nestoria smiled warmly. “It’s...it’s been a long time since any other ponies have slept here. Make yourselves welcome. But the bed’s mine, and I’ll wallop any pony who tries to take a piece of it!”

Burnished Lore let out a raucous belly laugh. “She’s...just...like you!” he exclaimed.

“Indeed,” Sparkle chuckled. “She's just like the oldest bits of me.”

“You always had the worst laugh, Moldy,” Nestoria said as she settled herself beneath the sheets.

Burnished looked back and forth between Nestoria and Sparkle, and laughed again.

#

Hope settled into her sleeping bag beside Sparkle. “That was very instructional,” she said quietly. “Thank you for giving her her respect.”

“I think I should be thanking Cutbelt for giving me a chance to do that,” Sparkle said purposefully. “I’m betting that was probably a generic hermit in the original text?” She gave a small nod to Hope, followed by a raised eyebrow.

Hope waited a moment for the party’s god to reply privately to Sparkle before speaking again. “I have a question: have you known any ordinary teams of ponies to take up adventuring in emulation of adventurers?”

“Well, I know of players who take up more ordinary characters, but...tell you what, we will discuss all this another time, as I think the group is eager to get to the exciting bits of this adventure.”

Hope Springs sighed. “Very well,” she said, and turned over to get to sleep.

Author's Note

We are now plunging pretty deep into a classic D&D module from 1982, so I should give proper credit to Gary Gygax, whose text has been plundered in a couple of places.

Chapter 28: An Unexpected Rescue

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 28: An Unexpected Rescue

Mary Jo shuffled around a few sheets of paper as she prepared to referee the events of the following day for the party of adventurers. “The next morning you wake up, and eat breakfast from your rations,” she told them. “You say your farewells to Nestoria, and make your way outside her cave.

“‘Be sure to come back afterwards and tell me what happened,’ the hermit says to Sparkle. She then gestures to Hope that she wants a word with her in private. You wait politely at the edge of the cave’s ‘porch’ while the two of them speak. Nestoria seems angry, but then the calm earth pony suddenly turns on her, saying two quick sentences that leave her utterly mortified. She backs up into the cave, and closes the door.”

Ellen frowned, struggling to separate the speeches of her sister and of Hope, trying to figure out how much of it was planned. “Well, Midnight welcomes her back, cautiously. ‘Are you okay, Hope?’”

Carry On’s player seemed buried in her equipment list, adding things they had picked up.

“Hope looks briefly back at the closed door. ‘She...she just thought that I didn’t belong with the rest of you. I’m sorry for being too gruff with her. I promise to apologize on the way back.’”

Ellen had noticed by now that Mary Jo didn’t even bother to pay attention when Hope did anything, seeing it as an opportunity to organize her notes, roll up stats, and so on, all while the words poured automatically out of her mouth. In fact, it took her a few seconds to realize that nothing was happening. “Right!” she exclaimed nervously. “So, you’re back at the crossroads, and Nestoria told you that Eggswife’s Horn, and therefore the Lost Caverns, are south. Which way do you go?”

Ellen went back to watching Jojo.

“North,” Luke said before laughing and rolling a die. “South, of course, I rolled a...17 for mountaineering, can I plot a course to Eggswife’s Horn?”

Mary Jo eagerly picked up her Percentile Dice of Deadly Random Encounters and started rolling them loudly in her hand. “So you’re leaving the trail?” she asked.

Ellen raised a hand cautiously. “I don’t know how I feel about this, since the path might take us there.”

“‘What?’” asked Susan as Torn Deck. “‘Are you saying that the evil overlord who ruled a mighty empire from the Lost Caverns actually ran a road to and from her HQ? Smacks of Lawful Good behavior to me.’”

“We go south along the trail,” said Gary with an eye roll.

“Okay, you walk down it for about a half hour before it splits. One path heads pretty straight south towards the Horn, while the other...hold on...while the other path heads southeast.” She sounded a bit annoyed at her own distraction mid-sentence. “Hope looks down the southeast path. ‘What are those?’ she asks, pointing up in the sky.”

“Do any of us need to roll anything to see whatever she’s seeing?” asked Gary.

“No, no, it’s clear enough, at least in general,” Mary Jo told the players. “You see a pony-sized bird. It is attempting to dislodge a pony who has bridled it.” She then wrote something on a scrap of paper that she passed to Gary.

“It’s a baby roc,” Gary read aloud. “I guess I could tell because of my pegasus eyes and the fact that I know just about everything ever. Oh, and the earth pony riding it is wearing a checkered bandana, which identifies him as part of the Earth Pony Army.”

“Okay, so we don’t head straight for the Caverns,” Susan—Torn Deck’s player—concluded.

“We could intercept them here, give them a misleading tip,” Ellen said, before hastily adding “That was in character, sorry.”

“Hope, her lips firmly buttoned, keeps her opinion to herself. She races off down the southeast path.”

“What?” asked Susan. “Is she going to disapprove even when we do the right thing now?”

“Itty Bitty puts on an unexpected burst of speed, and catches up with Hope,” Mary Jo told them. “The rest of you are only a short way behind them. The path crests and then drops away into a mountain valley. This isolated place is one of rugged beauty, with rock spires and jutting mesas rising from a dish-shaped valley. The rock formations make the place a series of meadows and dells. There are scattered shrubs and a few groves of trees, but most of the area is covered with lush grasses. But enough about food...what do you do? Hope and Itty Bitty are increasing their lead.”

“Can we reign them back?” Susan asked. “This place looks like a good place to get ambushed in.”

“Well, you try,” said Mary Jo. “But you don’t want to be so loud as to attract attention, so...no.

“The two race over a hill and are now out of sight. You begin to hear noises up ahead of a struggle, a struggle that seems to have broken out too soon to actually involve the earth pony or the pegasus.”

“Well, no need for quiet now,” said Susan. “We race up to the hill.”

“You follow the sounds of fighting around a couple of groves of trees to the space under an overhang of rock. There, you see several earth ponies in checkered bandanas fighting against flying creatures far too small to be even newborn rocs. Hope stands right in front of you, watching the battle. Itty Bitty, on the other hoof, has already dived in on the side of the flying things. What do you do?”

“Oh crud, Um...Midnight lights up her horn and casts down Sanctuary for the most injured bird, before standing on the hill’s edge and raising her sigil up into the air. ‘By the light of the sun, and all that live below it, cease your fighting!’ Aand...” She rolled a few dice and winced. “Five hit dice of creatures are compelled to see me as friendly?”

“Four ponies look up at the sigil in awe. ‘The Three-in-One!’ they cry out in unison. They look at each other, then race towards you. ‘Oh, cleric of the one true pony,’ one of them says. ‘Please guide and protect us!’ A second earth pony declares, ‘I was never in support of this venture in the first place!’ From the glares of the other three, he is obviously lying.

“Meanwhile, Hope looks over at you. ‘The flying roc we saw was probably imprisoned at the back of that cave. I’m going to sneak in and see if there’s any more that I can free.’”

Mary Jo looked over at Luke, who had been rather silent all this time. Of course, he was playing the thief, so that was kind of expected. “Thieves’ Cant” was practically shorthand for “playing the game entirely through passed notes”, after all.

One of those notes made its way into Mary Jo’s hand. It said quite simply, “Remove weapons, into bag, all earth ponies. 20, 17, 21, 15, 16.” The numbers represented the results of rolling a 20-sided die several times, and would be applied against the defenses of each opponent.

“Well, I’m going in,” said Susan.

“I charge up a…” Gary started to say, then frowned. “Where’s Carry On?”

“You have no idea,” M.J. said with a smile.

“That’s never good,” Ellen laughed.

“Great, so no Fireball, then,” concluded Gary. “I cast Web. If the thief gets caught in it...tough. Anchored on the overhang and an edge of the cave entrance.”

The thief’s player calmly declared “Twenty eight” after rolling a pair of percentile dice.

Ellen leaned forward. “Okay, so the thief is probably in the midst of them all, I think that I am going to do some good with my minions. ‘My followers! Please keep these poor birds, these creatures beneath the sun safe! Do not hurt them or your friends!’ Um...thirteen on my Diplomacy?”

“Yeah, that will work,” said M.J. “They are already gullible enough to work for a maniac, after all. While you were talking, one of the ‘birds’ has flown up, armed with a miniature mace. ‘Bird?’ the miniscule flying pony cries out in a shrill voice. ‘Who you callin’ a bird? I’m a breezie!’”

The audience and half of the players at the table groan at once, for this is a member of the notoriously-awful new player race that was introduced with the Second Edition in a transparent ploy to lure in the coveted four-year old market. Similar to Ewoks, nobody who wanted to be seen as “cool” ever admitted to liking them. Luke, as the breezies’ creator, cringed in his chair.

“Oh!’ Midnight cries out, taking a step back. ‘An oversimplification for the sake of peace, nothing more! I only wish to keep anyone from being killed,’ and I roll for my diplomacyyy...agh, an eleven, my luck had to run out eventually.”

“‘Yeah, whatever,’ he said. ‘Are ya with those dirty slavers, or against them?’ The Web spell goes off, by the way, and entangles three of the remaining earth ponies, including the one that Torn Deck just knocked out.”

“‘I am against all forms of slavery and persecution,’ Midnight declared, as she held up her sigil. ‘Of all creatures under the sun!” Ellen was really getting into the interaction again, leaning forward in her chair and holding up her d20 in place of her sun sign.

“You’re interrupted by Facet racing past you into the fray. ‘A true cleric bashes in the heads of her gods’ enemies. For Kelogto!’ She...gets one pony upside the head with her Staff of Striking, and wounds another on the backstroke.” Mary Jo then pretends to polish her nails on her lapel. “Also, Itty Bitty finally takes down the pony she has been fighting for the past two turns, although she looks pretty wounded.”

Carry On’s player rolled a die, then suddenly smiled, and showed the natural 20 to the PH. Then he rolled again and his grin widened. Two more dice, and he wrote out a quick note with a neat skull on the back, before giving it to M.J.

“Just then, Hope goes flying out of the cavern. She carves a neat hole in Burnished’s web, and slams into Facet, knocking her down. Stepping out of the cave and in front of the web is a freakishly large earth pony. ‘Eeeeaaaaahhhh!!’ he…” The spectators erupt into laughter at her laughably poor attempt to pull off a deep voice. “None of that!” Mary Jo warned. “Yeah, anyway, he screams his defiance.”

“Okay, now I want to cast Fireball,” said Gary. He put on a particularly evil grin as he added, “I aim it at the web.”

“‘I challenge you to single combat, leader vs. leader!’ cries Torn Deck.”

“‘Boss! Boss! Boss! Boss!’ chant the remaining enemies,” M.J. tells them.

“Burnished would be quite vociferously protesting his self-elected status,” said Gary, “if he weren’t busy casting a spell right now.”

“‘Fine,’ said the enormous pony. ‘As the challenged party, I get to pick the weapon. I pick ponies!’ He steps forward, effortlessly picks up Hope and lobs her at you.”

“Get him back to the web!” Gary cries. “Um...my character did not say that out loud. Still casting, still casting…”

“Well, Midnight has to get Hope! So, full strength TK, grabbing her and trying to cushion her fall. ‘Where is Carry On?!’ she cries out.” Ellen pointedly looks at the player.

Luke smirked. “Having killed the strongest looking earth pony in the group, and taken his appearance as my once a day disguise, I toss his pin-cushioned body directly at the big pony. Strength check...oooh, once a day reroll...that’s better, twenty two after adjustment.”

“He staggers back a bit, but quickly recovers. ‘Hey, one at a time!’ he says with a pout. Pointing at Torn Deck, he says, ‘I’m fighting this one now. Wait your turn.’”

“I…” Torn Deck’s player stalled. “I look around for something useful. Something other than a pony to throw at him.”

“Get h—” Gary starts to say, before interrupting himself. He groans wordlessly in frustration.

“Carot stumbles to her hooves. ‘That was no way to engage in honorable combat!’ she declares. ‘Hope, dear, are you alright?’

“Hope slowly opens her eyes, looking around until she finds Boss. ‘You’re missing something...’ she says, pulling a hoofful of golden bands out of her saddlebags.

“‘No...’ the Boss says, backing away in horror. Not towards the web, Gary. Hope looks around at the other adventurers. ‘Duck,’ she instructs you, before dropping to the ground.”

Gary threw his hands up in the air. “Ah, to hell with it—I was never going to hit him anyway. I duck.”

Ellen ducked to the table, as though really acting through Midnight’s actions. “Is it safe yet?!”

“Hit the me!” Susan cried out playfully.

“Itty Bitty has fainted from blood loss,” Mary Jo reported. “So Facet is the only one who doesn’t react fast enough when three enraged baby rocs emerge from the cave and attempt to hammer the boss pony straight into the rock. He tries to escape, but then the roc from the beginning of the encounter picks this moment to join his siblings. He is noticeably missing his rider. Well, after that the remaining two ponies run for it, pursued by the other breezies.”

“Can I cast a healing bolt on the cute pony from where I’m laying?” Ellen asked.

“Yeah. You take care of her, while a bloodied Facet walks up to Hope. ‘Are you alright?’ she asks. ‘I’ve been better,’ Hope replies from the ground.

“The breezie from before flies up to Midnight. ‘Thank you,’ he says with some reluctance. ‘You ponies did the bulk of the fighting, so the ill-gotten gains of those malefactors are yours.’”

Ellen got back up from her prone-on-the-table position and smiled. “Good Sir Breezie, I would not want to take the gains from your people’s enslavement. But if you give it for the good of the world, or as a donation to the sun...’ she not so subtly hints.”

The PH and the other players looked at her as if she were insane. Then Mary Jo recovered herself and replied for the breezie. “‘We were not enslaved,’ he says, raising a delicate eyebrow. ‘We were here to rescue the rocs, and for no other reason. Besides, one of those bits is wider than I am tall—how am I supposed to spend it?’”

“Rightio...I forgot what breezies were like. ‘Oh, well I apologize profusely. I could provide you with some healing in that case, to hurry you on your way.’”

“Less roleplaying, more immediate gratification,” Susan groused. The laughing audience agreed with her.

During this time, Luke passed another note to M.J. that read “Loot everything but currency and magic items to be sold in bulk, gather the rest for the party.”

A tedious procedure occurred at this point, known as “awarding experience”. As I assume most of my readers are not mathematically inclined, I shall not describe it in any detail. Along the way, the adventurers ended up somewhat richer, and also a bit better armed: Torn Deck gained the boss’ Crossbow of Speed (“Sweet!”), and Carry On claimed a Rope of Entanglement.

“Who takes the gaudy brooch that the boss pony was wearing?” Mary Jo asks.

“Well, my character was the one who challenged him,” Susan started.

“Right,” said Luke. “Go ahead and wear the incredibly attention-grabbing treasure that everypony and everymonster is going to want to kill you to get.”

Susan gives Luke a look. “I claim it, and don’t wear it.”

“Burnished walks over to Hope,” Gary said. “‘And what, pray tell, are those?’ He’s pointing at those gold bands you mentioned earlier.”

“‘I’m not sure,’ Hope replies. ‘Except that they were what was keeping those rocs docile. I saw one of them lying on the ground, and guessed that the escaping one must have accidentally knocked it off.’”

“Burnished takes one for later study, with Hope’s permission, of course.”

M.J. smiles. “Hope grants it, and puts the other three bands back in her saddlebags. Seeing that the rocs have settled down after getting their revenge on the pony who killed their mother—I would have had him reveal it to you in a dramatic monologue, if somepony wasn’t so interested in taking him down—she approaches to look to their health.”

It did not escape the other players’ attention that the character she was castigating was one that she herself was controlling.

“The main breezie consults with the others, who have returned from their pursuit of the fleeing earth ponies. ‘OK, we’ve reached a consensus,’ he informs them.”

“‘Err...do you have a name, Mr. Breezie?’” Susan asked as Torn Deck.

“‘I am known...as Bumble the Brave!’ the breezie proclaims. ‘It’s not funny! Anyway, we’ve decided that you lot are alright, for goofy-looking giants, that is. We’re extending an invitation to a party at our village tonight.’ He then puts on a very serious expression as he adds, ‘No looting.’”

“Well, Burnished wants time to examine the band before entering the caverns, so he doesn’t mind.”

“‘I’ve always wanted to know more about breezies,’ says Itty Bitty. ‘I suppose I can put off returning to my beloved earth for a little while,’ says Facet. ‘Any opportunity to make more friends,’ says Hope.”

Ellen sighed. “Midnight looks wistfully around. ‘Must we leave the camp here so soon? Will we have time to offer up an offering of all the stuff here we don’t want to Cele—’”

“How exactly were you going to pull that off?” Susan asked, out of character. “Burn it?”

“I mean, if there was a Church of Celestia, you could go and make a donation,” said Gary. “But seeing that you are the Church of Celestia…”

“Well, we would...I would say that burning anything damaged or soiled would turn it into fertile ash for the soil. Any metals and such...donated to the soonest homeless we meet. Midnight says as much, and smiles serenely,” Ellen decided.

Mary Jo listened patiently. This wasn’t the first time she’s dealt with over-enthusiastic cleric players. “Yeah, alright. As far as you know, there aren’t any other hostile ponies around who would be attracted by a bonfire—”

“I wake up one of the unconscious earth ponies and find out if there’s any other hostile ponies,” Susan quickly said.

“Yeah, alright, they’re the scout party for the Earth Pony Army, and the others are a day’s march behind them,” Mary Jo told them.

“A day?” asked Susan. “Do we really have time for a party?”

“Hey, I think this research is important, and besides, I need to refill my spell slots,” said Gary. “The clerics are in the same boat. We have no choice but to start the caverns in the morning instead of earlier. Might as well squeeze one last party in, right?”

“Oh! Ohohoh, Midnight starts to obsessively gather all the soiled and ripped tents, fabrics, the dead bodies, and she starts making a pile for a bonfire.”

“She is assisted in this by the four earth ponies you turned earlier, but with some reluctance. After all, they are handling ponies that they fought beside, ‘before learning the error of our ways’.”

“Excellent, I...Midnight comforts them. ‘There’s a lot of bitterness in death, but there are more beautiful things beyond, in Celestia’s lands. Each of you take one of your comrades, take them to the nearest town to begin receiving a proper burial.’ She gives them a few gold coins apiece, and a bit of rations to help them along. She then turns back to her party once those four have started along their way.”

Ellen gave them a cocky smile. “‘The blood spatters will leave a trail, along with enough hoofprints to be possibly a large group. The larger group will think that the whole group went that way, giving us a good diversion. Bonfire?’ Midnight lights the pile aflame with a burst of magic. ‘A supposed signal fire to convince them to try and follow the scouts or turn back.’”

“Hope, who had been watching you rather intently, turns with a toss of her head.”

“Good thinking!” said Susan, ignoring Hope’s reaction. “For a second there, I thought you were going to throw away some good loot haulers for no reason whatsoever!’”

“Hope...Hope, did I do something wrong?’” Ellen asked, eagerly and seemingly hurt by the reaction. “‘Hope?’”

“Huh,” Mary Jo said to herself. “I would have thought that that little explanation was said out of character, but…she doesn’t want to talk. I guess we’ll move on to the party.”

#

“There’s a party,” she said a second later, deadpan. “There are hors d’oeuvres, and pin the tail on the winged donkey, and even a piñata. Of course, being breezies, everything is ridiculously tiny. Burnished ignores the festivities to focus on his research on the circlets.”

Gary makes some rolls, which he reports to M.J.

“You find out that they act as a Charm spell, specifically making the victim obey any orders that anyone gives her. The amount of magic invested in the device is so huge that it looks like resisting the effect while wearing the band is nearly impossible. Hope, who has been looking over your shoulder the whole time, asks, ‘Is there any way that it can be reversed?’”

“‘What do you mean?’”

“‘I mean, do you think you could make a band that cancels out any and all mental manipulation?’”

Gary looked quizzically at Mary Jo. “‘What possible use could that be?’”

“Hope sat back on her haunches. ‘Are you telling me that you’ve never gone into a dungeon, and had something try to take over your mind?’”

Gary grumbled. “Damn mind flayers... Alright, I’ll see what I can do.”

Ellen sat back. For the lack of a better word, she seemed wounded, but she stared at her sheet instead of her sister, while Luke was compiling a list from notes Mary Jo had passed him, probably of collected loot.

“Bumble the Breezie lands on Midnight’s shoulder. ‘So, I expect that you’re heading to the Caverns,’ he says in a poor attempt to start a conversation. ‘Go in and drag out all of the gold and magic like everypony else?’”

Ellen looked up, and nodded. “Midnight speaks softly, reverently. ‘My aim is to rid the world of the weapon of power inside. To give it up to my goddess, so that it may never be used to hurt another living thing.’”

“Bumble turns his head. ‘And who says you can trust a goddess?’ he asks. ‘We thought we were serving a goddess once. She brought us here from the desperate place we were before, told us that she was the only good pony in a world of evil ones, and then set us out into this world to be her spies. Her name was Eggswife.’”

“Midnight hangs her head in respect to the suffering of his people. ‘I’ve spoken with my goddess, and she makes no demands or offers...she just wishes that I do good. I suppose...I think that doing this is good. I hope that she feels the same way. But it’s the only path I have.’”

“‘She’s trapped us here,’ Bumble confides to you. ‘A hundred years have passed since her death, and we still can’t leave this valley. There’s some kind of powerful magic in her lair that keeps us here.’ He lifts up on his wings and hovers before you. ‘I want to join your party,’ he says. ‘Do what I can to break this curse, and make up for all of the lives we ruined through our error in judgment. Do...do not take pity on me! I can truly carry my own! Watch.’ He reaches down to a silver leg band, and twists it. It’s color changes to gold, and with a flash, the breezie is replaced by a pegasus pony.

“This manages to get everypony’s attention. ‘Who are you?’ asks Hope. ‘I am Bumble, and this is one of the magics that Eggswife gave to her servants—the ones she didn’t enslave with those headbands. It allows us to become ordinary ponies. I am no adventurer in this form, but I can take a good deal more harm than I could as a breezie.

“‘Have you got any more of those bands?’ Hope asks. ‘Sure,’ says Bumble, ‘but you lot are already ponies.’ One of the other breezies flies in with a box filled with the magical items. Hope picks one up and pulls on it—it magically expands to be large enough to pass over her own hoof, if she so desires, and shows no signs that it couldn’t be pulled even larger. ‘Excellent,’ she says to herself.”

“‘Mare, what are you up to?’” Burnished Lore’s player asked.

“Hope merely gives him a mysterious smile.”

Ellen sat forward again, and focused on Gary. “I need for Bernie to do something for Midnight. She takes him aside, and asks if she can purchase one of the mind control rings from him.”

“‘Alright,’” said Gary in character. “‘After I’m finished building the anti-mind control ring.’”

“You’re finished building the anti-mind control ring,” Mary Jo quickly said. “In fact, you’ve converted it into a first-level spell: Burnished Lore’s Ring Reversal. It only works to turn mind-control rings into anti-mind control rings, so no fair trying to use it on somebody suffering from some other kind of mental influence.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Ellen. “Then I claim it for a hundred bits.” Ellen carefully notated the subtraction on her character sheet and wrote the mind control ring in her list of possessions, before carefully declaring her action: “I place the ring on myself and think of the sun.”

#

“What?!” practically everybody in the room exclaimed.

Mary Jo gave her a sad look and shook her head. “Your vision is filled with a blinding white light,” she told her. “And it feels like your body has been incinerated by an unbelievably intense heat. You have a sense of immensity within you, of infinity around you. For one brief moment, you are the sun.

“Then you find yourself back in the Astral Plane, with Celestia. ‘What is wrong with you?!’ she demands. ‘You would be dead right now if I didn’t just save you! No single mortal is meant to channel that much magical energy!’ (At least not before 20th Level.) ‘You...’ she stops on seeing your tears.” Mary Jo peered cautiously over her screen, hoping desperately that Midnight’s player wasn’t aping this aspect of her character as well.

Thankfully, there were no tears on Ellen’s cheeks, but the look of awe and fear that Mary Jo saw brought back memories of late night hikes through the woods and secrets that her younger sister had let slip at the wrong moment. She obviously hadn’t understood what exactly she was doing.

Mary Jo silently prayed that Celestia wouldn’t screw this up, and then allowed the character to speak through her. “‘You have done far better than I would have expected. Than one who has been in my service for so very little time. Perhaps...I am mistaking justifications for true motivations.’ She uses a hoof to lift Midnight up from her crouched position. ‘I do not require slaves,’ she says gently. ‘Or vessels for me to inhabit. If you know me, you know how I treasure clever minds. That is what I wish most of all from you, Midnight Sparkle. A pony who carries out my wishes...in a way that I would never expect. Otherwise, I’d just go down there and do it myself, yes?’”

“‘Or...and forgive me if I speak out of turn...you would have my faithful friend, Hope do it,’ Midnight says cautiously, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she looks up to Celestia with curiosity unbound.”

“‘That would be a matter between her and me, don’t you think?’ Celestia says with a small smile. ‘But yes, if there was something that I thought she could do better than you, I would forward the request through you, and it would be up to her to obey it. The same applies to any of your party, I suppose, although you are correct that Hope would be the most amenable to well-phrased requests.’”

Ellen nodded, and relaxed a bit. “Then...I’m sorry for alarming you. I only have one more thing, the reason I wished to consult with you at first: I feel that I have failed my friends somehow, yet I know not how. What should I do to grow closer to them?” Ellen looked around the table, and mouthed “sorry” and shrugged, acknowledging that she was taking a lot of game time.

“‘It is a pity that you cannot take them here,’ Celestia says, gesturing to her surroundings. ‘It is quite peaceful here, if you take the time to get used to it. But seriously, you need to talk to your friends if they have a disagreement with you. Knowing adventurers, they will probably try to make a fight of it, but I believe that persistence in this case will be rewarded. Is there anything else you wish to ask of me?’”

“Celestia, am I allowed to say your name openly when I am out adventuring? I would like to...”

“‘That would be Cutbelt’s c—’ Whoa, that’s creepy!” For the briefest of moments, Mary Jo-as-Celestia felt a gigantic version of her own eyes glaring down at her.

“Mary Jo, are you alright?” Gary said, reaching over to pick up her hand. “You’ve been really—”

“Cutbelt during game time!” Mary Jo snarled. “How many times do I need to say that?”

Gary quickly pulled his hand back. “Alright, alright!”

M.J. looked back at Ellen. “She said...yeah, you can say it. You can start handing out ‘Truth About the Sun’ pamphlets and everything—knock yourself out.”

“Okay, great, that’s all I needed, I end the commune and take the ring off,” Ellen said quickly, smiling a bit more than usual.

“Yeah, no, that’s not how mind-control rings work,” M.J. said with a grin. “Celestia uses her magic to remove it, and you wake up. Rather interestingly, the ring is nowhere near you when you recover.”

The other three players all shared a nervous look—the rogue wannabe goddess now owned save-proof mental magic.

“Nice one, Midnight,” Susan muttered under her breath.

Chapter 29: She's Not Entirely Stable

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 29: She’s Not Entirely Stable

Celestia was beginning to get the feeling that Ellen was not entirely stable.

I mean, for one of the Lords of Creation, she seems to be rather unhealthily fixed on me, she thought.

And then, just as she was wondering how long she’d be stuck in the Astral Plane this time, she was back as Hope Springs.

“So, do you promise we can finally go to the Lost Caverns first thing tomorrow morning?” asked Burnished Lore. He seemed to be addressing the question as much to his god as to the other members of the party.

“Yep, first thing!” said Bumble the Breezie, leading them to their sleeping quarters.

“I’m surprised you even have sleeping quarters for beings of our size,” said Burnished.

“Magic pony-turny things, remember?” said Bumble.

“You know, if it weren’t for the fact that the haul from these caverns are going to be immense,” noted Torn Deck, “I might be complaining right about now about how the size of this party keeps getting bigger and bigger—and thus the size of each share when treasure gets divvied up is getting smaller and smaller.”

Hope said her goodbyes to the baby rocs, who were being cared for by the other breezies in a corral outside, and quickly joined the others.

As was routine for evenings with this group, the individual members split up to study or commune with their gods to get new spells. In Midnight’s case, she was already “full up”, which meant that Hope became the center of her attention instead.

“Hope, could you come over here? I have some questions for you,” the unicorn asked, waving from a side room with its own table and small oil lamp.

Hope came in and sat down. “Yes, Lady Sparkle?”

“I trust you. I don’t think that I need to learn your history or anything, but...do you believe in the power of Celestia?” She asked curiously.

Hope cast her eyes around her for a moment before answering. “Celestia is an alicorn,” she said simply. “She combines the powers of unicorn, pegasus and earth pony. When she was princess, she thought of nothing but of how to better the welfare of her ponies. I believe that Celestia is doing the best that she possibly can.” She smiled ruefully. “And yes, I believe in her.”

“Good...despite the image many have of me, I don’t want to spread the word of Celestia far and wide. Rather, I want to gain her more followers covertly. I asked to be able to say her name...well, you wouldn’t have heard that bit, but I want to say her name because to me honesty is important. I don’t want to lie to anypony. Will you help me quietly spread the news that, with Celestia’s help, we can bring harmony and friendship back to this world?”

Hope’s expression on hearing the word “honesty” was extremely enigmatic. On hearing her question, she turned away for a moment to control herself. “Oh, oh of course!” she said on turning back, her smile perhaps a little too wide. “I will do everything I can to assist with that goal, Lady Sparkle.”

“Wonderful. Get some sleep, we will have a less...friendly day tomorrow, I think,” Midnight sighed, and took out her dagger, looking it over with distaste, before putting it away.

Hope bowed, turned away, and walked over to her room. The creak of the floorboards as she walked sounded not dissimilar to laughter.

The next morning, the party headed south, towards the smoking mountain known as “Eggwife’s Horn”.

“Wait a second,” observed Torn Deck. “Since when was Eggwife’s Horn a volcano?”

“She means the dragon, nitwit,” said Burnished.

Who “she” referred to was not immediately clear to Hope. She kept her eyes glued on the mountain peak, even after they had gotten too close to really be able to get a good look at it anymore.

“Are you worried, Hope?” Carry asked, standing startlingly close to the earth pony, and moving silently.

“A little,” Hope admitted. “I wonder if she is suffering.”

“Who, Eggswife?” Midnight chimed in, looking at the Rogue suspiciously.

“If Eggswife isn’t dead, we are all in big trouble,” said Hope. “I meant the dragon. I hear that dragon fights can get quite ruthless if they are evenly matched.”

“Right,” Carry On agreed. “They could tear each other to pieces, but you’re worried about them... Because you secretly want dragons to be on the same level as ponies and griffons?” he asked, seemingly with more weight to her words than necessary.

Hope looked away. “I won’t deign to lecture you on the place of dragons in this world of ours,” she said. “Go along to the Caverns; I’ll let you know if she’s going to attack us.”

“Oohoho, testy NPC! Alright, I’m going—no need to glare.” Carry On very nearly vanished, sneaking ahead to scout.

The thief didn’t have to do so for long. The track led to a cavern with an entrance that seemed like a fanged maw. The roof was jagged and there were rising cones of stone below. A low moan came from the cavern mouth.

“Probably the wind,” Burnished noted.

“Certainly looks the part,” said Torn Deck.

“Yeah, this is it,” said Bumble from his spot on Torn Deck’s helm. “Wanna go straight in?”

“Hold on a moment,” Hope said calmly, walking over until she was directly facing the entrance.

“Must we—?” Carry was cut off by one of Midnight’s hooves on her snout.

“Go on, Hope.”

“The poem on the map said to look over your shoulder before you start,” Hope said, checking over first one shoulder, then the other. “What’s over there?” She asked the question as if she knew exactly what the answer would turn out to be.

Burnished, Torn Deck (and Bumble) walked over in the direction indicated. “A bit rocky over here,” said Torn Deck to his passenger. “Hold on.”

“I can do better than that,” Bumble said, rising into the air on his wings. “Are we looking for anything in particular?”

Hope shook her head. “It was a rather vague clue. Perhaps it was nothing more than a warning to turn around and leave.”

“Well, we might as well make a try of it,” said Torn. “Maybe there will be a key or something we need later on.”

“I hope it’s not a key,” Burnished said, kicking a few pebbles. “Because everything here looks like a key to these old eyes.”

“Ah, let me give it a quick try,” Midnight cast a spell, her eyes glittering silver with the magic. She then looked over the area carefully, searching for the golden glow of a magic signature. Several minutes later she slumped over, defeated.

“So, no magic key, huh?” asked Facet. She crossed her front hooves and cracked the joints. “Let me show you how a mistress of the metallic arts does it.” With a bit of concentration, a silver glow built up in her eyes, which then burst outwards in a rapidly-expanding sphere. The metal of the party’s possessions glowed brightly, and two of the rocks glowed dimly. After five seconds, another glow was briefly revealed. “A-ha!” she exclaimed. “I may not have found anything significant on the surface, but I hope you were paying attention, because I think I spotted a couple of neat treasures deep underground.” Having said this, she went over to one of the rocks that had glowed, raised it to her ear, and tapped it couple of times with a hoof. “A little bit of copper in this one. I might try refining it later.” The rock was placed in her saddlebags, soon followed by the other.

“Okay, I’m beginning to get tired of this,” Torn Deck said with a frown. “I think that Cutbelt is yanking our chain.”

“No!” Midnight said firmly. “If looking over our shoulder...what if it wasn’t behind our shoulder but above it?” She looked toward the entrance, along the top of the arch.

The walls of the cave were dull gray, and the ceiling had many stalactites growing down from it, though most of them had been broken off.

Torn Deck walked into the opening and then glanced down, as if consulting an invisible note. “This place has seen a lot of traffic,” he observed. “Notice that the debris from falling stalactites has been cleaned out. The floor is completely smooth, and the walls and ceiling are blackened with soot. Over here you can even see some discarded gear.” He poked a hoof at a decaying saddlebag. “Nothing useful.” He looked around. “We safe from dragon attack?” he asked Hope with a grin.

“Yes,” Hope said.

“Everypony present and accounted for?” Torn asked. He started counting to himself. “Wait a second...where’s—?”

“Found it!” cried Itty Bitty from a couple dozen ponylengths away.

The others raced up to the slight hill she was standing on.

She tapped the ground below her. “It’s hollow,” she told them.

Facet groaned. “I knew I should have asked Kelogto for Find Hidden Spaces!”

“Oh! Well then, I’d say that you have certainly proven your skill there,” Carry said. “I’m a bit jealous that I didn’t find it.” She conveniently did not explain what she had been doing instead.

A little bit of digging revealed the opening of a vertical shaft.

Facet walked over with one of her chunks of copper ore suspended in her magic, signaled the others to be quiet, and dropped it down the hole.

Two full seconds passed before they heard a faint splash.

Hope stood quietly, looking at the hole. “Who has that journal page?” she asked finally.

“I do,” said Torn Deck, pulling it out and unfolding it.

Hope pointed at one particular passage, reading it aloud: “...the span swiftly to plunge to doom…” “You need water to plunge. Those other adventurers had to cross an underground river or lake. And that was right before they descended to the lower level of the caverns. I think this could bypass half of the caverns right here.”

Burnished looked at her doubtfully. “That’s a pretty big leap of faith, Miss Hope. I mean, that’s got to be a good three stories underground, in a shaft too narrow for a pegasus to fly back up. If we go down this way, there’s no going back.”

Midnight closed her eyes, and simply thought “Celestia, should I go?” while imagining that she was speaking to the sun.

“I think—” the voice of Celestia began to say.

“Hey! Have you fellows forgotten about me already? Tiny scout pony here!”

“Oh,” said Burnished. “Right.”

Midnight shrugged and walked over to Bumble. “Can you fly down and back up safely? We have rope if you want a safety line.”

“Rope? Forget it. How about sewing thread?”

Burnished had been studying Bumble for several seconds before reaching his conclusion. “If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do this right. I’ll cast every protective spell I’ve got on you.”

“Oh!” exclaimed Facet. “I can set up a communication link between my holy symbol and a silver mirror.” She waved her hoof over her symbol, which changed shape from a silver ingot into a little silver mirror. “That way, we can see what you see, and give you advice in case you run up against a couple hundred monsters.”

“...Or bats,” said Itty Bitty. “Large carnivorous bats. I saw their sign right over there. There’s got to be a colony of a couple hundred of them in the caverns. Nothing for a full-size pony to worry about, but...”

“So, what else do you have?” Bumble asked, suddenly feeling a bit less brave than when he volunteered for this mission.

“I have the protections of Celestia. If you would feel comfortable taking her wards,” Midnight offered.

“You also have that potion of invisibility I gave you when I was handing out the Guild loot,” said Carry On.

“Ooh! I’ll take that, please,” said Bumble.

Midnight shrugged, and went back to looking down the hole.

“I’ve got a Ring of Fire Resistance,” Carry On said, “although I’m not sure how—”

Bumble used his transformation band to turn pony, picked up the ring, and turned back. This caused the object to shrink with him. “Thank you kindly,” he said.

“Hope, do you think it is safe down there?” Midnight asked casually.

“No,” said Hope looking down. “Which is why bypassing as much of the caverns as possible is preferred. Bumble is possibly saving all of our lives by this move.”

Midnight turned back to the breezie. “Right. Bumble, I...I would feel much better about all this if I could give you Celestia’s blessing. Would you...can I do that, Bumble?”

Bumble frowned. “In my world, the sun is controlled by its own spirit. I...I can offer no permanent allegiance, not so long as there is any chance that I and my people can return there. But if your Celestia is not a jealous goddess, then I will gladly accept her blessing.”

“No,” Midnight smiled at the thought. “She is not a jealous sort, no. She just wants all to have peace and safety.”

She brought a violet-blue light to her horn and surrounded the breezie in the light, making a tiny suit of golden armor, before it faded away. “You should feel less from any blow, now. The best I have. Thank you, Bumble.”

Bumble smiled brightly. “Alright! Let’s do this!”

Hope expected Bumble to descend into the hole. Instead, Midnight, Carry On, Burnished and Torn Deck looked up, and a second later Celestia found herself back in the Astral Plane.

“What now?!” she exclaimed.

There was no response.

She pulled her portal open once again. “Show me the cavern entrance,” she ordered.

The terrain was just as she remembered it. Hope of course was missing—she had already figured out that the Astral Plane was a real place instead of an actual dreamscape, as witnessed by the fact that Midnight and Hope actually disappeared during the frozen moment while they were here instead of there. Down in Equestria, Bumble, Facet and Itty Bitty were all present, frozen in time as they always were when she was in this place, but the other four ponies were gone.

“Where did they go?”

“Dinner break,” Mary Jo said, getting up. She took a look at her watch. “There’s a small chance we might be able to get up to the boss fight before they kick us out at ten tonight. This stunt of Bumble’s stands a good chance of getting us there.”

Gary walked over to her, a frown on his face. “Did we do something to tick you off?” he asked. “The NPCs have been carrying this entire adventure so far.”

“Oh, um, it’s because of the late start—I had to railroad things a little. I’m sorry about that.” She finished packing away her things enough to survive anybody trying to mess with them while she was gone, and turned to Ellen. “I was thinking of going back to the hotel restaurant, unless you have any suggestions?”

“Let’s do that, just us though if that’s alright. Some sister time.”

Ellen, for the first time all game, looked over toward Marcus, to see what he was doing. She was surprised to discover that he had left. “We might want to make sure that a particular weasel hasn’t beaten us there first, though,” she then muttered.

“He left way back when the Guild was assigning the mission,” said Mary Jo. “Looked pretty spooked, if that means anything.”

The younger sister just shrugged, stuffed her dice back into her bag, and started off toward the restaurant. “I hope he was scared off.”

“Yeah, well I was thinking—”

Any further words became impossible, because the pair had emerged onto the main hall of the convention during the break between the afternoon and evening seminars. People were pushing each other left and right, crying out and shouting to get the attention of the dealers.

“It just gets worse and worse,” Mary Jo tried to say, but couldn’t even hear the sound of her own voice. With a shrug, she put on a pair of headphones plugged into a Sony Walkman, pressed the Play button, and cranked up the volume.

Ellen, having gone to the same conventions as her sister, did the same.

Celestia was getting really tired of waiting. Something was happening, but it sure wasn’t happening here. She launched herself skyward and began flying aimlessly.

Eventually, she began to make out vague sounds. Following them to their source, she stopped at an off-white barrier, the same color as the sky and ground, which she was unable to make out until she was nearly on top of it. Landing, she reached out to touch it. The substance seemed like a tightly stretched membrane of some sort. She felt vibrations through her hoof and cautiously, she put an ear against it.

“I always feel like, somebody’s watching me.”

Celestia jerked her head back. Somebody was singing over there! She gingerly applied her ear once again.

“Tell me is it just a dream?”

The pair slowly made their way through the convention hall. A few individuals recognized Mary Jo, but were unable to get to them through the sheer crush of humanity. The best M.J. was able to do was wave feebly at them as they passed.

Finally, they emerged into the anteroom between the hall and the outside doors. Mary Jo cast her eyes about her, looking for pesky reporters or anybody else willing to cause trouble. What she saw instead were a bunch of people going about their own business.

With a satisfied nod, she removed her headphones.

“OWNER OF A LONELY HEART!” screamed the headphones.

Mary Jo quickly turned down the volume, then tapped Ellen on the shoulder, to tell her she could take her own headphones off.

She slipped them off, a crooning melody echoing out before they were turned off. “Free from the masses...” Ellen murmured, before addressing her elder sister. “We need to play more private games, Jojo. Not in the least because I’d like to get to know Celestia outside of the restrictions of a stage game. This is insane, Jojo. How are you communicating with her?”

The pair emerged from the conference hall, and started crossing the street to the hotel.

“I have no idea,” Mary Jo said in answer to Ellen’s question. “Look, have you ever written a story, and you’ve gotten so far into your characters’ heads that they’re ‘telling’ you what they’re saying and doing? Well, this is like that, but I know it’s not coming from me. I mean, she’s not taking me over or anything. I’m free not to say her words. But it’s hard to think of anything other than the words when she—or Hope—are expressing themselves.” As she finished speaking, they entered the hotel.

“By the way, did you plan that? To have Hope be Celestia’s witness or something? Because I have to say I didn’t see that coming,” Ellen confessed, as they got a table and ordered drinks.

“Hope’s as much her own character as Celestia is,” M.J. said. “I think I have less understanding of what makes her tick. I mean, we’ve got the whole backstory on Celestia. Hope could be anything in the long term. She’s certainly not just Midnight’s servant, I can tell you that.”

“Well yeah. I feel like...if I can’t ask Celestia a question, I just ask her instead. She’s keen, and I doubt she’d take it well if I started treating her as a retainer... Anything I need to stop doing or do more of for the rest of the game to work?” She asked before picking up her newly delivered iced tea.

M.J. poured three Sweet‘N Low packets into her iced coffee and began to stir. “Well, this is getting into conflict-of-interest territory. As Pony Handler, it’s my job to kill you off.” She said this with a friendly smile. “But I’d say listen to Hope. She short-circuited a third of the game by getting you to find that shaft. I honestly didn’t expect anybody to put together those clues I planted.” She laughed as a sudden thought occurred to her. “She better not be peeking in my part of our brain.”

Ellen was going to reply, when instead she suddenly turned her head to the right. “Did you hear that?” she asked.

“Hear what?”

She looked around a bit more. “Phantom drum solo…” she mumbled. “But...reading your mind, huh? I wonder if that’s what is happening? A sort of...subtle transfer both ways?”

“I guess you’ll know if she starts quoting prog rock lyrics,” M.J. replied with a smile.

Ellen took a sip of her tea, before she laid her head down on the table and sighed. “Jojo, why did Marcus have to show up? Today hasn’t been that bad except for him.”

“‘The stars inform all of my movements,’” M.J. said, imitating their father’s voice and wiggling her fingers in the air. “Who knows why he does anything?”

“Probably just to make me feel crummy inside. You know, I’ve got an open file on him and his cult,” Ellen reminded her sister. “I’ve been working on it for a long time, I just...I can’t pursue it and I’m missing a few things that would be required to put the case out there. How many years has it been now, and I still can’t do anything about him?”

“Too long. Far, far too long.” Mary Jo looked over at the waiter, who walked over.

“Are you ready to order, Mademoiselles?”

“Um...sure.” Ellen actually opened the menu, picked a random thing, and pointed to it. “Asp...I mean that, the chicken alfredo looking thing.” She looked wildly about her for a few seconds.

The waiter, being a professional, acted like nothing strange was going on, and entered Ellen’s order. “And for you?”

M.J. stared at Ellen for a few seconds, then looked down at the menu. “I’ll have the pork chop, with asparagus.”

“Very well. I’ll put in the order, and get a refill for Madame’s iced tea.”

M.J. tasted her coffee, grimaced, and put a sugar packet in.

“Hey, Jojo...”

“Yes?”

Ellen sipped her tea again, casually. “I’m hearing things that sound suspiciously like drums beating me around the head, and I’m a little curious if it has anything to do with...her?”

“What, you think she’s infectious?” M.J. laughed.

“I’m her follower!” Ellen hissed, wide eyed. “Not just...not Midnight, I’m...it’s stupid, never mind. Maybe it’s because of Midnight.”

M.J. shivered, suddenly regretting her choice to eat next to the patio. “I’m going to run upstairs and get a sweater. You need anything?”

“Don’t...please don’t go, Jojo, this is weird and for all that I dress in pink and act like a princess, I don’t handle this type of weird well. Can she...can she hear us?” she asked, looking up toward the ceiling.

“You’ve got nothing to be afraid of from her,” M.J. said sternly. She gestured imperiously to her waiter. “Excuse me, but I need a porter to be sent up to my room to retrieve the white sweater lying on my bed.” She took her room key out of her purse.

The waiter nodded and accepted the key. “I’ll have it done right away.”

“There,” said M.J. “Nobody’s going anywhere.” She took Ellen’s hand in her own.

Ellen yanked it back. “Youch! You do need a sweater,” she joked. She then reached back out to put her hands around Jojo’s. “You’re freezing...”

“I’m just cold-blooded,” said M.J. “You know that. I was always the one turning on the heater in the summertime. And you were the one with the A.C. in the winter.” Her eyes grew distant. “Maybe we were just glad to finally have electricity.”

Ellen didn’t speak, just bowing her head, trying to warm her sister’s hand. She then looked sharply to her right, before letting her head drop again.

“Room 1013?” asked a young woman in a bellhop’s uniform.

“Here,” said M.J., waving her free hand.

“There...there was a note taped to your door, Miss,” the bellhop said cautiously as she draped the sweater over the back of M.J.’s chair. “I took the liberty of bringing it down.”

M.J. looked over at Ellen for a moment. “Let me have it,” she said. “Thank you.”

She took the piece of paper, folded over several times into the shape of a small square, and practically covered in tape. With a sigh, she dug into her purse to produce a small pair of scissors, which was applied carefully until she could spread the paper flat.

It was a sheet of lined notebook paper, the jagged edge indicating that it had been torn from a spiral binder. M.J. read the note a few times, before passing it over. “Well, you wanted an explanation of us and Equestria? This is probably as close are we’re going to get.”

“He never told me what he was truly doing,” the note read. “Only that he needed three to make it work: a caster, a summoner, and a channeler. Howard was the caster, and I suspect he got exactly what he wanted. Do not try to find me.”

The note wasn’t signed. Which did not mean that the pair had any doubt who must have written it.

“Celestia, is that you?” Ellen whispered, once she finished, laying the paper down on the table.

Mary Jo stood up suddenly, looking around in all directions.

It took a few seconds for the voice that literally seemed to come from inside her head to respond. “What does it say?”

Ellen shivered, and grabbed M.J.’s hand again, pulling her back into her seat. “Can you...?” she asked, pointing at her ear.

M.J. rapidly shook her head in denial.

“It...” Ellen haltingly replied, “it says effectively that our father had someone named Howard cast something through us... Marcus...a man biologically defined as our parent, let us be used in a ritual of some sort.”

She kept her words to a quiet whisper.

M.J., her sweater forgotten, clutched tightly to Ellen’s hands, a frightened look in her eyes that she managed to fight down.

“And who is Howard? I have heard the name before, but what, specifically is he to Equestria?”

“He...to Equestria?”

“What is she asking?” begged M.J.

“She’s asking who Howard is to Equestria,” Ellen said cautiously. “Like...I don’t remember a Howard.”

“That’s because I left him out,” answered Mary Jo. “Kelogto, Cutbelt, those are proper names for gods. Who ever heard of a god named Howard? I mean, it was my vision, so I had the right to leave out the silly bits. Howard...Howard was the first adventurer. The one I never could remember in any detail. He found...an artifact? Something, and he used it to conquer Equestria. Then he seeded all the treasures in all of the dungeons ever since.”

“Can...can you hear...what I hear, Celestia?” Ellen asked.

There was a significant pause before Ellen heard a response. “I have to say that I am not very impressed with your species, if this is how you decide to greet us.”

“Please don’t hurt me...” Ellen whimpered. “We...we don’t remember most of it. We were tortured...we were just kids...”

M.J. pulled Ellen into an embrace. “What are you saying to her?” she addressed Celestia. “You will not do anything to her without going through me!”

“Stop...please stop remembering,” the voice said, suddenly weak. “I...I do not hold you personally to blame...how could I? You were but children. Children of...savages…”

Ellen closed her eyes and thought of flowers. A safe image with no negative connotations for her, a field of flowers she could browse during meditation or times of stress. Then she spoke. “Celestia was...upset by our reception of...another race, I guess? I’m having trouble processing all of this. It’s your world, after all...” She opened her eyes to look up to Jojo.

“How do we reverse this?” M.J. asked. “How do we give Equestria back?”

“She doesn’t know.” Ellen addressed her next words to Celestia. “So like...can you just speak through me like you do with her? Because I’m a crap translator.” Then she took another sip of tea, a good deal of it spilling.

“I do not know how this system works. I wasn’t even aware that I had passed between you.”

M.J. rolled her eyes after Ellen repeated this to her. “So we’re stuck with our own rulebook?”

“I guess so...wait...” Ellen’s eyes went wide. “Celestia, you sa—” Ellen sat up and tried to look unsuspicious as the waiter delivered their food, an incredibly awkward smile on her face and tracking the waiter’s every move until he left.

M.J. poked at the asparagus with a fork. “What was I thinking? I don’t really like asparagus.” She looked up at Ellen and braced herself. “So, Midnight, what do you do now?”

“Um...w—” Ellen looked around and shrugged, hoping that Celestia had moved back to her sister. “Well. I want to ask Celestia why Hope has as much power as she does, that’s really perplexing.”

“‘I’d tell you all about Hope, if I truly felt that I trusted you,’” M.J. said in character.

Of course, now Ellen could actually imagine the words in Celestia’s voice, now that she had heard what it actually sounded like. The feeling she got was that Celestia was keeping quiet to protect Hope. “O...kay. What do you want, Celestia? Outside of the game, outside of anything we want?” Ellen started to eat as she awaited her answer.

“‘I would like to be your friends,’ Celestia said. ‘But first we would have to resolve our differences. Specifically, Equestria. You have it, and I would like it back.’ Oh, that’s cheeky of her!”

“Yeah, well we certainly would give it back, if we knew how!” Ellen laughed, shaking her head. “It’s not like we have anything to be gained from linking our game to a real world. It’s just a game. Sure, we’ve made money off it, I imagine that much is obvious by the stage we were on earlier, but if it all went away?” She looked up to M.J. and shrugged. “We would create something else. A new story, a new company. So...you don’t know how to get Equestria back, we don’t know how to give it back, how urgent is it that we give it back anyway? We...wow, we do a lot of damage, now that I think about it...” Ellen frowned and resumed her meal.

M.J. took a few bites herself. “Yeah. You do not want to read the Association of Churches report on how many ponies we killed off in 1981 alone.” She stopped for a second. “Wow, I sound like a genocidal maniac.”

“But those can’t all be real ponies,” Ellen protested. “We make a ton of them up. Like...Midnight. She was created as a one-off character, a blank slate for any player to take up and add a class to. What are the odds that she really exists?”

M.J. reeled. “Celestia...ooh, she’s really mad! ‘Why don’t you ask Hope about her best friend, the pony who followed her across half the country to try and help save Equestria, the pony whose body you’re currently wearing like a cheap suit!’”

Ellen paled and stared at her food, putting her fork down with a grimace. “So...she’s a real being. But she’s not in my head! Oh, also we need to be quiet, we’re in a restaurant.”

“‘Yes, you are in a restaurant, eating meat. And I have been polite enough to refrain from remarking on that fact. But please continue, and I shall try to keep my voice down.’”

“We’re omnivores, it’s...ugh. But that’s...should we just call off the game? I don’t want to roll a bad save and get her killed or anything...”

M.J. pushed some asparagus shoots around with her fork, saying, “‘Cutbelt, Jojo, whatever you wish to call yourself...’ Whoa, this is getting seriously meta. ‘What would be the consequences of ending this game?’ Well, I said, talking to myself, that would be a bit tricky. Lost Caverns of Soap Candy is a metaphysical game.” She looked over at Ellen. “That was supposed to be a total surprise, by the way. What I mean is that the core area of the game exists outside space and time. Theoretically, every player who ever reaches that area is existing in the same place with every other player. The conjunction of realities is supposed to be the source of Eggswife’s power, and that of the spoiler-spoiler at the heart of the caverns. So if I cut off my game...hm, I’m not really sure.

“Realistically, you can’t possibly have every player that ever plays Ponies & Dragons traipsing around in your Equestria, or there’d be nothing left. Players play the same modules at the same time, and none of them find when they get to the treasure that it’s already been looted. So either there are multiple alternate Equestrias, or only some of them count...like say the showcases.”

Suddenly excited, Ellen smacked her fork down on the table. “Sorry...” she cringed as the whole restaurant looked at the loud noise, then slowly resumed their meals. “But no! It has to be more, because you, Ms. Sunbutt, scared the heck out of a fairly new PH by showing up in his game...no, that was Hope wasn’t it? I was wrong about it being you, but if Hope is in your world, then you are in the same world as our most annoying player. Gods he has probably gotten all of his poor characters killed, hasn’t he...?” Ellen trailed off, slumping against the back of her seat.

M.J. smirked. “You do know that Brian has this official certificate printed up, saying that every game he plays is ‘showcase canon’, with the idea that if he does anything epic that I’ll be required to put it in our next rulebook. It’s his own fiction. Although, considering the power of belief in Equestria...wow. You’re really screwed.”

“That’s not very nice,” said Ellen. “So, right now, do you see me or Midnight, Celestia?”

“‘I see you, Lady Sparkle,’ Celestia replies.”

“Wait...so I just control her by saying stuff—this is a subtle system! Can you imagine the amount of energy it would take to monitor every player, Jojo?”

“No, I honestly can’t,” said M.J. “And now I’m guessing that you’re stuck on our timescale, Celestia, if you’re able to communicate when the game is stopped. And our campaigns cover decades in a matter of days! It would be an act of cruelty to even sleep!

“‘I can manage,’ Celestia replied. ‘If you are like other mortal creatures, the last thing I need is for Equestria to suffer the effects of your sleep deprivation. So what is this about a metaphysical game? Why can’t you just end it?’” M.J. took a few moments to eat before she answered. “It’s just that, part of this game should apply to you no matter who plays it, out of potentially hundreds of copies that have already been sold. And trust me, you definitely want this boss taken down. Celestia sighs. ‘So, it would appear that the path of violence is the only one open to me, then?’”

“Or... A path of cleverness.” Ellen shrugged and leaned forward again. “Listen, Celestia. We don’t know how to save your world right now. But we do know how to adventure. We can do this thing, finish it and go home, try to figure out a better solution. I don’t want Midnight hurt. I don’t want Hope hurt, but, if it does happen, please don’t hate us for it. We still want to help.”

Mary Jo as Celestia sighed, and then became very stern. “‘Very well,’ she says. ‘But that means from now on, we shall be playing this game my way, with no questions asked.’”

Ellen sighed, laying her head in her hands and rubbing the ghosts of tears from her eyes with the heels of her hands. “That’s not how friends operate, Celestia,” she said softly. “We might ask questions, they might be stupid but...we will defer to you, because you know what you are doing, okay? An exchange of assistance?”

M.J.’s expression softened. “‘Very well. I shall amend my last statement to “Trust me.”’”

“That. I can do that.”

Chapter 30: Calling in the Cavalry

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 30: Calling in the Cavalry

Around the same time that the adventurers and the breezies were uniting to save the baby rocs, off in the distant hamlet of Redfern, Loam Planter was harvesting his crop of carrots, when he was interrupted by an insistent knocking on the front door of his cottage.

“Come around the cottage—I’m back here!” he cried out, shaking off the garden tools that were strapped to his hooves. “Hello,” he said as a thin earth pony walked into view. “I’d welcome you to the village, but you must have gone through it to get here.”

“Yes,” the visitor replied. “I was directed specifically to come here. Are you Loam Planter?”

“Yeees,” Loam said cautiously, edging around to see that the visitor’s cutie mark was some kind of chocolate tart.

“Excellent!” the earth pony exclaimed stepping forward to shake hooves with the farmer. “I am Muddy Pie.”

“You’re uh...not mad I got you all dirty just now?”

“What? No, of course not! I got this cutie mark because of how much I love working with the earth!”

Loam’s negative reaction on seeing the cutie mark was pretty much cancelled out by now. He almost considered inviting the visitor inside. Almost. After the last three times that adventurers had burned his cottage down, he had become very cautious. He hadn’t even invited Hope Springs inside. “Well, if you were sent here by the others in Redfern, then I am at your service. What can I possibly do for you?”

“I need to find out everything you know about Hope Springs.”

Well, that was an odd coincidence. “Hope Springs,” Loam said. He then walked past the visitor to an old mat located next to the back of the house. “Oh, I hope you don’t mind if I sit down—carrot-pulling is agony for my back, and I’m not as young as I used to be. I’m afraid I don’t have anyplace for you to sit.”

“Oh, I don’t mind standing,” Muddy Pie said as he turned to continue to face Loam Planter. “So...Hope Springs?”

“Right,” Loam said, settling himself on the mat. “Hope Springs. Why do you need to know about her? Is she in trouble?” He did not say out loud the more-likely question given how she left the town: Have they found her body yet?

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Muddy said smoothly. “Quite the opposite in fact. You see, she was fleeing from her brother, the Tyrant of Maneport. I’m here to tell her that the Tyrant has died, and she’s free to return home to her inheritance!”

As he was telling this tale, Muddy carefully watched Loam‘s reaction, to judge which parts of Hope’s life story the farmer already knew, just in case he decided to plead ignorance.

“That’s not what she told me,” Loam replied. “She said she was a poor would-be adventurer from Oriano. But her story didn’t really add up—she knew next to nothing about her famous forebears, despite the plenteous brochures about them that practically rain from the skies. And her attitude was that of a noble. One of the nice nobles, but still a noble.”

“Ah,” said Muddy with a knowing smile, “I’m glad to see that I’ve met a pony with such a keen eye. As a matter of fact, I was already in Oriano”—by order of Prince Blueblood, following up on a pony who was mysteriously absent from any of Duke Sparkle’s reports—“and nopony there had even heard of her!”

“Huh,” said Loam, leaning back. “So what is her real name?”

Muddy Pie did a double take. “Her what?”

“Her real name. If as you say she was on the run from her evil brother, surely she wouldn’t have given me her real name.”

“Ah, right!” Muddy exclaimed. “Her real name. Her real name, it was...Spring Hope. Yes, her real name was Spring Hope.”

“Really,” Loam said flatly. “All she did was reverse her name, and she expected ponies would fail to remember her if this tyrant’s ponies came around later looking for a ‘Spring Hope’.”

Muddy started to shift uncomfortably in place. “Well, she never was that good at subterfuge. I mean, she never even bothered to establish her backstory in Oriano, and any one of you could have travelled there at any time!”

Loam rubbed his chin in thought. “I suppose…” Well, that’s what he said. In his mind, he had already classified this liar as on the same moral scale as a typical adventurer. He prayed to the Forsaken Goddess that he might get away from this encounter with both his home and his crops intact this time.

“Yes, yes that is exactly right!” Muddy exclaimed. “Now I was wondering if you could tell me by which road she came into Redfern. You were the first to see her, right? Right?”

Loam didn’t answer Muddy, because he was busy rising to his hooves, his eyes riveted to the sky over Muddy’s head. “Dragon!” he suddenly screamed, quickly running around the side of the building. “Everyone to the shelter! Dragon! Dragon!”

Muddy turned calmly around to face the smallish red dragon that was flying right for him. Hmm… he thought to himself. I guess I get to find out just how good the Prince’s Charm spell really is.

As he watched, the dragon landed neatly on the road. “Parley!” it cried out in a surprisingly loud—and feminine—voice. “I come in peace!”

“Hello,” Muddy Pie said, walking right towards the creature. “Welcome to the village of Redfern. Please be forgiving of my fellow villager’s reactions.”

“Oh, a rational pony—thank Celestia!” the dragon exclaimed, bounding up to the back fence of Loam Planter’s property. “I am Dame Kameneva, Knight of the Green Tribe.”

Up close, Muddy could see that the dragon was wearing a heavy helmet that looked like it was made out of lead. “And I am Muddy Pie,” he said. Seeing that a hoofshake would require him to get far closer to the dragon then he would like, he settled for a bow instead. “What brings a magnificent creature like you out to this miserable part of the world?”

Kameneva pointed behind her, to the path that wound up into the Canterhorn. “The cave up there has been unsealed!” she exclaimed.

“Has it?” Muddy asked, in a tone he hoped would cause the excitable fire-breathing monster before him to calm down.

Kameneva took the hint. “Ah, yes,” she said, scratching the back of her neck with one claw. “Princess Celestia used to be in there, held in a dreamless state that no dragon magic could reverse. Ever since we dragons have found a way to block out the Curse—” (she tapped the side of her helmet a couple of times with a claw) “—I’ve been coming back every few years under the cover of night, to try new methods and to hope that she might have somehow freed herself. And now the entrance is open, and Celestia is gone!”

Muddy flinched as a tongue of flame just missed the side of his head.

“Oops! Sorry.”

“Oh don’t mention it!” Muddy exclaimed. “What’s a little fire between friends?”

“Ha, ha! You’re funny!” the dragon exclaimed. “You’re...not part dragon, are you? Something about you is just screaming ‘dragon’ to me.”

“Huh, imagine that!” Muddy remarked, trying to pretend he had no idea what she was talking about.

Kameneva saw that she wasn’t getting an answer to that question, so she pressed on. “Did you happen to see the Princess leaving? Or, even better, did she maybe leave a message for me? She might have left it under the name ‘Kammy’—that was her nickname for me.”

“Ah, well the truth of the matter is that I’m just a caretaker of this property. The true owner…” Muddy cast his eye around until he found Loam cowering behind the side of his cottage, obviously come back to save him from the “rampaging dragon”. “Loam, good fellow! Come on out! This dragon is friendly! Friendly, I tell you!”

“OK!” Loam cried out, before cautiously walking over towards the earth pony and dragon. Great, this is just great, he thought bitterly to himself. Father told me this day would come one day: a dragon adventurer, the worst of all possible outcomes. Well, it’s a good thing I left my will in the shelter. “I’m Loam Planter,” he said, “the owner of this here property.” And if you’re my caretaker, I’ll eat my roof, he thought acidly in Muddy’s direction. “And no, Princess Celestia never came down from yonder mountain. Believe me, if that ever happened, I would know about it.”

“Oh, you heard me from all the way back there?” Kameneva said.

Lady, they probably heard you in Oriano, Loam thought as he silently nodded. You don’t have a pair of lungs each as big as I am for nothing.

“Ah, a pity,” the dragon remarked. “About not seeing the Princess.”

“If I might venture to ask,” said Muddy Pie, “was there any specific reason you were seeking her?”

“Well, the dragons have amassed a mighty flight of Curse-proof dragons,” she told them, “with the intention of liberating the whole of Equestria from the tyranny of gods and adventurers, with her as our vanguard.”

“Wow!” Loam exclaimed, instantly won over to this mad scheme. “And why did you need Celestia? You dragons can do practically anything in great enough numbers!”

Muddy rolled his eyes. “Because a flight of dragons coming to ‘liberate’ Equestria is going to be seen by ponies in a completely different light if Celestia is there to lead them.”

“Oh,” Loam said, thinking this over. “Yeah, I hadn’t really thought of that. But you know, she could have come down at any time, and I wouldn’t have known it.”

This caught the attention of both Kameneva and Muddy Pie.

“Oh?” asked the red dragon. “And why is that?”

“Because the gods know she is a threat,” answered Loam. “Her only choice would have been for her to go in disguise.”

“That makes sense,” said Kameneva, scratching her chin. “I last visited the cave four years and three months ago. How many ponies have you seen coming down from the Canterhorn in that time?”

“Oh, it must have been dozens,” Loam answered. “The spot is a very prominent shrine to the reverence of the Valiant Bees. Oh...oh my!” he suddenly exclaimed. “That was your cave, wasn’t it?”

Both ponies took an unconscious step backwards. Not that that would have done them any good if the dragon did suddenly turn hostile.

“Yes,” Kameneva said darkly. “But I’m better now. Your ‘official’ story is completely wrong. And not even in my greed-bloated state was I ever that big.”

“Yes, I recall Moldy Cane telling me that once,” Loam Planter said. “He knew quite a bit more about that encounter than he had any right to, but I wasn’t about to question him.”

“What about Hope Springs?” Muddy Pie asked very quietly. He had never trusted that earth pony after she had seen through his disguise. He was the one who had pestered Prince Blueblood into starting his investigation.

“You mean ‘Spring Hope’?” Loam countered with a wry grin.

“Yeah, whoever...did she come from the shrine?”

“Yes,” Loam replied, his voice also suddenly hushed.

Kameneva looked quietly between the two ponies.

Muddy Pie stepped forward, into the place he was standing before Loam’s accusation. “Now, regardless of what you may be thinking, let us establish some generalities. The ponies you saw come down from that shrine—they probably belong to only two categories: adventurers like Moldy Cane, and would-be adventurers like Hope Springs.”

“And how did you know that Hope Springs was a would-be adventurer?” Loam said suddenly, turning on Muddy.

“You told me, remember?” he said, raising a hoof to his chest in a gesture of innocence. He then turned his attention to Kameneva, biting his lip as he thought very, very carefully about his next course of action.

“Ah, yes, I did,” said Loam. “Well, Hope was the only would-be adventurer in the past four years. The rest were all full-blown adventurers, or ponies passing through who heard about the shrine and were curious—but all of those came through the town first. Anyway, you’re right, Mr. Pie, that it doesn’t matter which one of them the Princess was disguised as—every pony I ever saw who ever came straight from the shrine ended up going to the Inn of the Prancing Pony, in Hoofington.”

Kameneva took in a sharp hiss of breath on hearing the last words that Loam Planter said. “The heart of the enemy,” she whispered.

Muddy Pie remembered the words of his employer, Prince Blueblood: Victory goes to he who is willing to take chances. With a short gallop and a mighty bound, he made his way over Loam Planter’s fence, to land right next to a startled Kameneva. “Lady,” he said with an elaborate bow, “it appears that the salvation of Equestria lies in an alliance between our two peoples. Please allow me to enter your service, and I will do everything in my power to help you and the Princess save Equestria.”

“Make him swear!” cried Loam.

Muddy turned his head to glare at Loam Planter, and to add the pony to the list of his personal enemies. Many ponies had been added to this list over the years, but very few ponies still remained upon it who were both living and sane.

Kameneva’s right claw closed into a fist. There was a small flash from within, and then she opened it to reveal a diamond monocle, which she affixed to her eye. “I’m afraid this is too important for me to trust to just your word, Muddy Pie,” she said.

Muddy turned back to face her. “I swear, that I will do all in my power to help Princess Celestia regain control of Equestria from the strange forces that currently control it,” he said. “That much you know is true. I cannot in good conscience, though, make any allegiances with dragons, as I do not know if they might eventually find their interests opposed to that of the Princess.”

“But earlier, you said—” Loam started to say.

“That was said in the heat of the moment,” Muddy said calmly. “What I just said, however, was true.”

Kameneva popped out her monocle and put it back in the same null space she had pulled it from. “He was speaking truth,” she said as she rubbed the eye with a knuckle. “And it is an oath I am perfectly willing to work with. Also, my truth-seer is incredibly uncomfortable, so don’t give me cause to use it again.” That last part was growled more than said.

Loam, deciding that he had done enough to protect the adventurer-dragon from the wiles of the adventurer-earth pony, decided to wash his hooves of the matter. “Well, I have to bring my carrot crop in,” he said. “Good luck on your...adventure together.” Neither of them paid him any heed as he picked up his basket of pulled carrots and walked into his cottage.

“I would never wish to give you cause to distrust me, My Lady,” Muddy Pie said to Kamenenva with a bow. “Let us return to your former cave, and together we will try to come up with a way to bring our mutual goals to fruition.”

“‘Fruition’! Oh, I love the sound of that word in Equine!” Kameneva exclaimed.

“Ah, a fellow scholar! How wonderful!” Muddy exclaimed. “You know, I got my cutie mark for my willingness to ‘get dirty’ in my perpetual search for the truth.”

“Really!” Kameneva exclaimed. “Tell me more.”

#

When they got back to the cave, Kameneva set to work performing a detailed search of its contents. “I tried to find a message from Celestia,” she explained. “And I want to be really sure she didn’t leave one before we do anything rash.”

“A wise course of action! Very wise indeed!” Muddy exclaimed from outside the cave. He quickly removed a sheet of parchment from his saddlebags, a special vial of ink, and a feather quill attached to a long stick, so he could comfortably wield it with his mouth. Using the pen and ink, he wrote a quick message at the bottom of the parchment, a message which dried within seconds of being written. He rubbed a glowing hoof over the words, causing them to disappear. And then he put everything back in his saddlebags and waited for his new dragon acquaintance to finish her search.

“Any luck?” he asked at last.

“No,” she said sadly as she walked out of the cave. “Which leaves me with the conundrum of how best to bring a dragon flight to Hoofington without having them attacked by adventurers and non-adventurers alike.”

“If I may make a suggestion, My Lady?”

“Yes?”

“You could use an escort...a royal escort.”

“Royal?” Kameneva asked, raising one scaly eyebrow.

“Yes, the army of the Kingdom of Unicornia.”

“I don’t know,” Kameneva said doubtfully. “Wouldn’t the Kingdom cease to exist if Princess Celestia were triumphant?”

“Yes…” Muddy Pie said with a thoughtful frown. “But they are suffering mightily from the effects of this...Curse that you describe. Besides, we don’t have to mention the Princess, do we?” He looked up at her with an angelic expression. “It’s too bad that we can’t quickly contact them, though.”

“Ah, there you are wrong, Muddy Pie!” the dragon exclaimed triumphantly. “Hundreds of years ago, during the last time when there was a Unicorn Kingdom, a treaty was signed between it and my Green Tribe of dragons, and the monarchy accepted a sending stone, that any dragon might use to send messages. I learned this during my studies of pony history! I even remember that stone’s DBC! If we wrote a message, I could send it straight to the current king or queen of the unicorns.”

“Excellent!” exclaimed Muddy. Reaching back into his saddlebags, he removed a certain piece of blank-looking parchment and a different bottle of ink. “I’ll suggest the words, but feel free to change them as you see fit.”

Platinum IX, Queen of Unicornia, Ponykind, and the Entire Planet of Equus, had retired early to her bedchamber, complaining of a headache. With her advanced age, this sort of complaint was not very unusual. Sunlight Sparkle had her own theory, however, one that was seemingly validated when she was told to announce a visitor.

Sunlight was one of nearly a hundred unicorns who had the great honor of raising and setting the sun each day. It was by this action that the Unicornian monarchy justified its claim to rule the entire world illuminated by that sun, a sacred trust taken over from Princess Celestia until her glorious return. But moving sun, moon and stars was incredibly taxing upon one’s magical reserves, and so members of the Celestial Brigade worked in shifts, with long stretches in between where they performed more menial duties for their queen. Like ceremonial guard.

“What is it?” the Queen asked after Sunlight had politely rapped upon her door, her voice slightly muffled by the half-hoof of solid wood between them.

“Majesty, it is your son,” Sunlight announced in a ringing voice.

“The heir?” the Queen asked from her side of the door.

“No, the imbecile,” Sunlight replied.

There was no chance that Sunlight would get into trouble for using this title. After all, she had learned it from the Queen herself, and she constantly used it in said “imbecile”s face.

“Ah that’s right—he’s due for his monthly thrashing,” the Queen’s voice said wearily. “Let him in. Oh, and Sunlight?”

“Yes?” the guard asked, thrilled that the Queen had bothered to remember her.

“I’ll have to use the soundproofing spell, to protect your delicate sensibilities. Do not allow anypony in until I open this door, alright?”

Sunlight Sparkle drew herself up into a form that only a fellow noble would have the gall to call a “military posture”. “Yes, Your Majesty!” she cried shrilly. She then turned to the mewling figure of Prince Blueblood. “Well, you heard her—get in!”

“Yes, ma’am,” the Prince said weakly, before turning the knob with his own hoof like a mud pony and walking in.

“I pity that poor stallion sometimes,” Sunlight said sadly, then reconsidered. “Nah!”

#

“Yes, Mama?” Blueblood asked once the soundproofing spell was cast.

“Trouble,” said Platinum, levitating a parchment to him. “And before you ask, yes it’s legitimate. It came to me via a dragon-only channel I was using to keep my favorite chair from wobbling.”

Queen Platinum IX of Unicornia,

The dragons of New Draconia have finally developed a counter to the curse that has robbed us of our reason whilst in your dominions. The selfsame curse which has plagued your land with ‘adventurers’, monsters and disharmony.

We propose to set out from New Odessa (formerly the pony city of Baltimare) tomorrow morning with a flight of fifty (50) battle dragons, going over your kingdom at the treaty altitude of one thousand (1,000) pony-heights. Said flight will then land and rendezvous with myself outside your kingdom, in the vicinity of the peak known as the “Canterhorn”. Our final destination shall be the Inn of the Prancing Pony, where we plan to confront the unlawful lords of Equestria, and force them to yield the land to the proper authorities.

To accomplish this purpose with a minimum amount of bloodshed, we humbly request the escort of as many of your armed ponies as you deem expedient.

Humbly awaiting your reply before the morn,

Dame Kameneva of the Green Tribe.

“So, what do you think?” asked the Queen.

“I think ‘disharmony’ is a very odd word to find in a dragon-penned letter,” said the Prince. “Also, I noted a ‘we’. Considering who I just sent to the vicinity of the Canterhorn…” He cast a quick spell, causing a new set of text to appear, which he proceeded to show to his mother:

Hope Springs is Princess Celestia in disguise, and we’re going to join her at the Inn. It is time to choose sides.

“‘Choose sides’?” Queen Platinum in a panic. “How can I choose? Fifty dragons are about to fly over Unicornia in a matter of hours, and a day or two after that…?”

“A day or two after that,” Prince Blueblood said grimly, “either Celestia will be slain and the whole of Equestria will be lain waste, or we will have a princess again, and you and I will be out of a job. Which outcome would you prefer?”

Platinum stared at the floor for several seconds. “Well, it’s been a good run,” she said softly. “Blueblood, I will be sending you and Prince Trove with all the troops we can spare for the Canterhorn. Your brother will have to be in charge, as that’s the only way anypony could possibly be motivated to do something so extraordinary. And you will be in charge of your imbecilic brother. Once you cross the border, it will be an international incident of unprecedented proportions…”

“...Which the next ruler will have to handle,” Blueblood said with a gentle smile. “We can get there by noon—tell our dragon correspondent that in your reply.”

“I already have Clopernichus digging up the dragon sending spell for me. We’ll also have to send advance word to Duke Sparkle, to get you through Horn’s Reach without incident. And you just know he’ll want a position in the army.”

Blueblood smiled. “Give me a written commission to make his eldest daughter one of Trove’s lieutenants, and Comet will have no choice but to stay behind and literally hold down the fort. Captain Sparkle can be depended on to put the cause of Equestria before her own family’s political gain.”

Platinum beamed. “Son, you’re a genius!”

“I have my moments, Mother Dear. Now after we’re gone, keep an eye on your Celestial Brigade. You’ll know we’ve made our move...when they start panicking.”

Chapter 31: The Best Boat Ever

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 31: The Best Boat Ever

Mary Jo and Ellen walked back into the tournament hall, after crossing an even denser sea of humanity than last time. Due to their knowledge of Celestia’s presence in their collective noggins, they were unusually tight-lipped.

They returned to see that the Young Women’s group was eating take-out pizza, and most of Edgar’s team was AWOL. Of their own group, Susan was off in a corner wheeling and dealing on an enormous cell phone, and Gary and his brother Luke were off in another corner laughing over some private joke. The sisters set up their things and waited standing close together until the others noticed them.

“What’s up?” asked Susan, the last of the five to enter the huddle.

“I just wanted to apologize to you once again for my behavior tonight,” said Mary Jo. “I haven’t been explaining myself as well as I should, and a good reason for that is that audience over there judging everything I do.”

Gary put a hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright,” he said. The man was notoriously bad at interpersonal relations when they did not involve dice and miniatures, so he was visibly working through some discomfort and uncertainty in his assurance.

“Thanks,” M.J. said, lightly tapping his hand with hers. “Look, the fact of the matter is that tonight’s game isn’t really a game. It’s more like a performance piece, and there’s certain points I need to make to my audience, about responsibility, and how to respectfully handle NPCs.” She looked over to Ellen. Regardless of whose head Celestia was in right now, M.J. wanted to make sure she heard this.

“So in other words, it’s the Midnight, Celestia and Hope Show, right?” asked Susan.

“Basically, yeah. Sorry.”

“Eh, no problem,” she said. “It does mean that we really need to get together after this. Out of the spotlight, just a dinner on me to talk about the old times. You in?”

M.J. laughed. “Yeah, I’m in.”

“Thanks, everyone, for putting up with us,” Ellen added.

M.J. looked over to see that the girls’ group had put away their pizza, and that Edgar’s group was all back in place. “Alright then,” she said, loud enough for everyone to hear, “let’s get back to the game! Everybody, this is your last chance to get Bumble ready before he goes underground.”

She wrote a note quickly on a scrap of paper as everyone sat down and passed it to Ellen: “Midnight, you wake up from a brief nap to see a bundle of paper in front of you that wasn’t there before, tied up with a golden ribbon. A little badge is stuck onto the end of the ribbon with beeswax, with the words ‘For Hope’ written on it. What do you do?”

Ellen looked back at M.J. curiously, before writing “Pass it silently to Hope” on the paper and sliding it back.

“Look, I think we’ve done everything for Bumble that we can,” Susan said, “short of finding a way to cast spells through that mirror communicator thing.”

“‘Ooh!’ exclaimed Facet. ‘I can enchant my holy symbol to do just that! Give it back so I can enchant it.’ Bumble does as requested, and soon has the symbol back around his neck. ‘Anything else?’” As she was role-playing, M.J. wrote up another note, and passed it to Gary: “Hope, armed with a large bundle of paper sticking out of her saddlebags, tells you that Celestia has given her a dangerous mission, and that she has to leave the group. In the meantime, the goddess apparently left a big hint that you might need as many of those anti-mind control headbands as possible, and gives you the other three mind-control bands she was holding on to.” Out loud, she says, “Hope and Burnished Lore have a private conversation, and you can see her give some golden headbands to him before walking away. ‘Wish me luck,’ she says. ‘I’m on a mission for Celestia!’”

“Well, of course I get to work on that secret thing,” Gary said with a shrug, then he wrote a note and passed it to M.J.

“I...bid farewell to Hope and tell her that I hope to see her again soon, safe and sound,” Ellen said, sighing a bit. “But I suppose we must go on alone if Celestia wills it. ‘Go ahead, Bumble. We will await your word before coming down after you.”

“Hope begins to make her way up the mountain, soon walking out of sight. Bumble meanwhile descends into the hole.”

“Burnished leads the others into the cave, out of the direct sunlight,” said Gary. “I ask Midnight to give me the mirror linked to Bumble.”

Ellen, after staring blankly at her character sheet for a moment, startled and nodded. “Oh, right. I hand it over and await news of Bumble’s safety.”

“Hoof it over,” M.J. said with a slight grin.

“Hoof it over, yes I hoof it over.” Ellen smirked. “Unless you level me a few times so that I can cast Big Bee’s spells.”

M.J. laughed.

“Alright, I cast my Enlarge Image cantrip on the mirror so the image is big enough for everypony to see clearly,” said Gary.

“And for you to cast spells into it more easily,” noted Mary Jo. “Smart thinking. You see the close walls of the shaft rising in the image, until it finally opens up into a large tunnel over a flowing river.”

“How big is the tunnel? And how fast’s the river?” asked Susan. “Does it look deep enough for swimming? For rafting?”

“Well, everything looks positively enormous,” Mary Jo said.

“Yeah, but that’s because we’re looking though the POV of a dinky little mirror,” noted Gary. “‘Bumble, where are you?’ I ask.”

Ellen laughed to herself as she realized what was going on: a group of humans were directing a group of ponies to give directions to a silly-looking breezie. Her smile faded, though, as she realized that there was a fundamental difference between the two different kinds of interactions: if the ponies gave a suicidal direction to Bumble, he was free to refuse to carry it out. Poor Midnight Sparkle had no such ability.

Ellen closed her eyes as she tried to find an inner voice. Midnight? Midnight? Are you there? she thought to herself.

There was no response. With a frown, she picked up Midnight Sparkle’s character sheet and began to study it in detail. If this was a real person, with real hopes and dreams before she had allowed Ellen to take her over, it behooved her to do as good a job of representing those hopes and dreams as possible.

Several minutes had passed during her introspection and study—she remembered hearing something about bats at one point. She looked up to see Luke pass a note to her sister.

Mary Jo opened the note from Luke, which read “Tracked Hope for as long as I could without being noticed, before coming back. Where did she go?”

M.J. quickly replied via another note: “She’s going up the mountain. As far as you know, the only thing up there is the dragon’s lair.”

Luke’s eyes went wide before he wrote another note: “I try to see if I can read any part of Celestia’s instructions.” He rolled a couple of dice, and showed the results to Mary Jo.

The note that he was returned had these words: “As near as you can tell, those instructions are entirely blank.” This revelation made him even more nervous.

“Well,” drawled Ellen, “that wasn’t conspicuous at all! Did Midnight notice anything?”

“Oh, you mean other than the fact that Carry On wasn’t with you for the past hour? No, nothing at all!” said Mary Jo as she watched Luke fail his Move Silently roll. “Oh and as for Bumble, a medium-sized bat emerges from a tunnel opening in the southern wall just below the ceiling. Your point of view through the holy symbol dips even closer to the water, and over next to one wall.”

“‘Carry, where were you?’” Ellen hissed, as Luke tried his best to look innocent.

“‘Isn’t this more urgent?!’” he hissed back across the table.

“‘Fine. But we are going to have words, mister.’ I ready a searing light as a last resort...for the bats, not for the thief.”

“The bat flies around for a bit, making squeaking noises. Then, giving up, it flies over to the lip of the tunnel entrance, where it lands and carefully walks out of sight. You hear no more sounds. ‘Well, that wasn’t too bad,’ comments Bumble. ‘If that’s the worst this cave has to offer, I will be a very grateful breezie.’”

“‘Alright, this is totally up to you,’” Susan said as Torn Deck, “‘but could you take a peek in that tunnel?’” The player had a piece of graph paper before her, on which she had been mapping the breezie’s progress along the underground river. Also on the map was the other cavern entrance that the players knew about.

“Bumble takes a minute to make up his mind. ‘Alright, but you better be ready for motion sickness if I see anything I don’t like.’ He edges his way slowly up the south wall, finally peering into a passage a little more than a single pony-width across, leading southwest. It opens almost immediately into a large cavern. The floor is covered in a soft substance. ‘Ugh...smells awful,’ he says, his hoof clearly over his muzzle. ‘It’s about eight by eight pony-lengths, with an exit to the southwest.’”

Susan quickly added the newly revealed room to her map.

“‘Okay, don’t look up,’” said Gary in character. “‘because that stuff you’re looking at is enough bat guano for a full colony.’”

“‘Leaving now,’ says Bumble.”

“‘Yeah, good idea,’” said Gary.

“Bumble resumes his flight eastward. The tunnel continues straight, but with a slight downward slope. There is a faint rushing sound in the distance. Forty-eight pony-lengths later, the river finally widens, revealing a landing to the east as the river curves northward.”

Susan showed the others the map, noting that the river had now crossed the point where the entrance led into the cave complex.

“‘That’s our ticket into the caverns,’ Carry says, pointing at the landing on Torn Deck’s map. ‘Is there a tunnel down there?’ I imagine I can roll a separate spot for dead bodies, boss?”

“‘There’s something even better than that!’ Bumble exclaims, quickly flying close. ‘Not only a tunnel, but a boat!’”

“So,” Ellen started as she leaned back from looking at the map. “If we go down, the bats are going to be a problem. Can we stay underwater long enough to avoid alerting them and get to the landing, or would the river carry us down the bend?”

“So, by swimming?” asked Mary Jo. “Um, let’s say that Facet said that. Meanwhile, Bumble is inspecting the boat. It is made out of wood, three pony-lengths long and one and a half pony-lengths wide at its widest. The boat tapers to a point at both ends. There are oarlocks on either side. Inside, Bumble finds three loose planks forming a deck, on which lie three oars.”

“Three?” asked Gary. “Is the third one a spare?”

Mary Jo ignored the question to complete her description: “A hole in one of the planks matches a hole in the thwart above, indicating where a mast could be placed.”

“What’s a thwart?” asked Susan.

“It’s one of the crossbeams on a rowboat,” M.J. explained. “To keep it from collapsing.”

“One on't cross beams gone owt askew on treddle,” said Ellen with a straight face.

“No,” said Mary Jo sternly. “I fell for the Spanish Inquisition sketch once. Once.”

“‘So what kind of quality is it?’” asked Gary. “‘Do you think it would survive being rowed upstream?’”

“‘How strong do you think I am?’ asked Bumble incredulously. ‘Do you really expect me to row that thing eighty-some pony-lengths against a four pony-length per round current?’”

“‘Through a swarm of bats, don’t forget the bats,’ Carry adds.” Luke added.

“‘Silence spell’, Burnished says, doing one of these:” Gary then waved an arm in a bored fashion. “‘Look, the only way we’re going to pull this off is if it’s a magic boat...oooh. I cast Detect Magic through the mirror.”

Mary Jo rolled some dice, before announcing, “Yup, it’s magic, specifically the schools of Alteration and Evocation.”

“Um, no curses?”

“None that you could detect,” M.J. said with a straight face. It was hard.

“Welp, I say that we do the whole ‘dive in and pray to Celestia’ bit, what about all of you?” Ellen asked.

“‘Now hold on, I’m not detecting anything bad about this here boat,’ said Bumble. ‘Can I at least look at it for a bit?’”

“‘Your funeral,’” mumbled Gary as Burnished Lore.

Susan shrugged. “I’ve got no idea if that’s the Death Boat or not. What color is it?”

“Bronze.”

“OK, if you said black, I was gonna vote for ‘kill it with fire,’ but now I really don’t know. It...it isn’t chanting, is it?”

“No.” M.J. tried and failed to hold back a laugh. “A chanting boat. That’s a new one.”

After the others spoke, Luke just looked down at his character sheet, shrugged, and looked up to Mary Jo. “Can I roll a knowledge dungeons check to see if I know of any reason why we shouldn’t jump down?”

“Well, the reasons are pretty obvious. If you jump down with your armor, you’ll die. So you’ll have to leave it all behind. You might make it to the landing without dying of hypothermia, but that depends on the luck of the dice.”

“Tow rope!” Ellen crowed. “How much rope? The whole party?”

“And who pulls it, Bumble?”

“Nono...” Ellen stood, to get at the map easier, pointing at the shaft down into the caves.

“We drop a rope down with something buoyant attached. Then we keep reeling it out until Bumble can get a hoof on it and drag it over to the boat. Wait, do you breezies have hooves, even? Whatever, and then changes to full size, and ties the rope on. We pull the rope to bring the boat up to the hole, and use the same rope to climb down.”

She sat back with a smile.

“Clever.” Mary Jo smiled. “Yes. That could work. What do you have that is buoyant?”

“I...” Luke flinched at everyone turning to look at him in surprise at once. “I’ve got the water skins of like, four dead earth pony fanatics. Inflate them with air and tie them on.”

“Nice!” exclaimed M.J. “Okay, I’ll come up with some rolls to see if your float develops a leak, but otherwise, that should work just fine. You easily have enough rope.”

Ellen looked so happy she could burst. M.J. could almost see her as Midnight glowing in the success of following her Goddess’ teachings.

At the next table over, Brian pounded the table with one meaty fist. “I don’t care! I pull the orange lever. What happens?”

Edgar looked down at the module text. “You hear the screams of thirty more ponies dying in the next room over. What do you do now?”

“I pull the blue lever!”

“Keep running!” exclaimed Sally, the girl playing Chestnut.

“The swarm of flesh-eating bats is getting closer, and closer…” said Alexia, clearly relishing putting her party through the wringer. “Oh, you see an opening to your left, but you’re clearly still running northwards, and—”

“Turn left, turn left!” exclaimed Erica.

“Okay. On a stone shelf extending into a river is a wooden boat, three pony-lengths long and one and a half pony-lengths wide at its widest. The boat tapers to a point at both ends…”

“I think I hear an echo,” said Susan with a frown.

M.J. was too busy rolling to pay attention. “One of the bladders develops a slow leak, but it’s not enough to hinder...what?”

Susan shook her head. “Never mind. It’s getting too noisy in here to really make out what anybody’s saying other than ourselves.”

“Okay, so the rope trick works, right?” Ellen asked excitedly, actively trying to tune out the other groups after hearing the mounting death toll in Edgar’s game.

“Yes, the bladder drifts eastward towards Bumble. ‘Should I go intercept it partway?’ he asks you.”

Luke shook his head. “Wait until it is well past the bats, then guide it. No need to tug on it until it gets to the bend.”

“I assume I’m helping to lower it?” Ellen asked.

“Yes,” answered M.J. “You really can’t do anything else at the moment.”

“‘Don’t get too far away from the boat,’” Gary as Bernie urged. “‘It’s a magic boat—it might turn into a fish when you’re not looking or something.’”

“A boat that can turn into a fish,” M.J. said as she wrote that down. “I swear, you’re making this boat way too interesting. Anyway, it takes about...ten, fifteen minutes, but the float finally appears in Bumble’s view, and he flies over to push it along the surface until it bumps against the boat. Landing inside the boat, he turns himself into a pony—well, the sudden change in elevation in the mirror makes that the most-likely outcome—and he then reaches down and picks up the float. ‘Now don’t rush me’, he says. ‘I’m not exactly an expert on knots or anything.’”

Ellen raised her hand. “I cast Competence, give him an extra bonus on that check.”

“Alright, he ties the knot, and tugs it about five times in different directions, including up. It doesn’t look like it’s going anywhere. ‘OK,’ he says, ‘I’m ready if you are.’”

Luke frowned. “‘Are you still invisible?’”

“‘Dunno. I was never invisible to myself.’”

Gary passed a note to M.J., and got a reply back. “I cast a spell,” he reported to the others, “and yes, he still is.”

“Well then you can just lay down in the boat,” The rogue player advised. “The bats will just see a boat, right? If they even try to look. Then we climb down, and you become small and fly again once we’ve got somepony down there.”

“He does that,” reported M.J. “You start pulling the rope—”

“Slowly!” shouted practically everybody at the table.

“—Slowly,” M.J. said with a grin, “and the boat is dragged upstream. I’ll need strength checks from however many of you are pulling.”

Ellen, Luke and Susan volunteered.

“My Strength score is crap,” explained Gary, “so I’ll be the guy to react first if anything goes wrong.”

“Both Facet and Itty-Bitty want to help, but it’s just not practical for more than three ponies to pull the rope without losing their coordination.” M.J. rolled some dice. “The rope slips out of Midnight’s magic for a moment, but of course that means nothing, and she quickly grabs back hold again.”

“I keep an eye on the mirror, which I have brought out from the cave to be close to the others,” said Gary.

“You see the rope lifting into the air until it exits through the bottom of the shaft.”

“OK, I stop the pulling before they start lifting the boat out of the water.”

“The boat is now about three pony-lengths away from the bottom of the shaft.”

“Are there any trees around here?” asked Susan.

“Yes. If you had thought to wrap the rope around it earlier, I wouldn’t have even bothered with the strength checks.”

Ellen just scoffed. “That would have been unsportsmarelike. Okay, so we wrap the rope several times around the tree, tying it twice because why not.”

“‘I cut off the free rope after a full pony-length away from the tree because hey, free rope,’ says Facet.”

“You should go first, Itty Bitty,” Luke advised.

“‘Oh...OK,’ she says, wrapping the rope expertly into a harness around herself. Slowly, she lowers herself into the darkness.”

“If I hear her falling, I’m casting Feather Fall as soon as she exits the bottom of the shaft,” Ellen told M.J.

“That would be a bit difficult to get the timing right with the mirror and all, but alright.” Yet another dice roll. “She makes it down all right. In the mirror, you see her squeeze through the tight space caused by the rope hugging the edge of the shaft opening, and then lowering herself down at a 45-degree angle down to the boat, which she then boards. ‘Yay,’ she says, quietly, because bats you know.”

Luke laughs to himself, before shrugging. “I’ll go next I guess?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not,’ Midnight says as she eyes him suspiciously. Spot check?”

“Spot check what? Spot check shifty eyes? Carry On always has shifty eyes. Oh, you mean spot check the rope climb. It’s going to be three Dexterity checks: once for the descent, once for the lip of the cavern, and once for that tricky diagonal part.”

“Okay, I was meaning to see if Carry On was carrying anything she shouldn’t be, like Celestia’s papers that I gave to Hope.”

Luke just grinned, and shrugged. “No papers here.” No papers there, either, he added mentally.

“Well...then go right ahead, Carry.”

Luke nodded and rolled his three checks. “Pass!” No big surprise—you’re not a very good thief if your Dexterity scores are poor.

“Carry On made it down to the boat. Next!”

“Midnight is a bit apprehensive about being the failure point of her idea. ‘Um, how about you, Facet?’” Ellen asked with a nervous smile.

“‘Very well,’ said Facet, wrapping the same harness around herself that Itty Bitty used. ‘I hope you were paying attention, because I suspect I was the last member of this group trained in rope descent.’ She then dropped out of sight.”

“Ouch, the NPCs are miles ahead of you on this one, Midnight,” Luke said with a chuckle.

“And somehow, despite flipping over at the ‘lip’ stage, she manages to make it to the boat. So that leaves Burnished, Midnight and Torn Deck.”

“You have Feather Fall,” Gary said to Ellen, “so you should probably be last. I’ll go next. I’ll even announce my rolls for extra drama. 14 Dexterity, rolling d20...8, 5...and 1. Do I get something extra for the natural 1?”

“Yeah, you don’t get rope burns on your hocks,” M.J. said with a pout, clearly disappointed at the run of luck thus far.

Susan picked up Gary’s die and rolled it. “10, 9 and 11. Aw, no 1. Anyway, I made it.”

Ellen looked around. “So. Just me up there, right? My turn then. Let’s see, I get that harness on and roll a...19, gah that’s nowhere close to being beneath my score, so...so I fall? Right from the top?” She asked incredulously. “Can I try to grab the rope?”

Mary Jo rolled percentile dice. “OK, because you didn’t ask Facet or Itty Bitty for in-depth instruction, none of you were properly harnessed, so Midnight falls right out of hers. You lost your grip 46% of the way down the 20 pony-height shaft...that’s nearly eleven pony-heights above the surface. Another Dexterity check to see if you manage to grab the rope during your fall.”

“I cast Feather Fall first!” Ellen said urgently. “Then I try to grab the rope...and...” She slumped against the table and put one of her dice back into her bag. “That one needs a time out. Natural 20.”

“In trying to reach for the rope, you are swung head-first into the wall of the shaft, and knock yourself out. Now then!” M.J. pulled out her copy of the Player’s Manual and consulted the entry on the Feather Fall spell. “Casting time was one-tenth of a segment, which is 3/5th of a second. In that time you fell two pony lengths out of the eleven. Once the spell took effect, your speed of falling dropped to a constant four pony-heights per segment, instead of the 19.6 lengths per segment per segment of normal falling. That means it will take you three segments to reach the bottom of the shaft. Unfortunately, the spell only lasts one segment per level of the caster, and you’re Level 1.”

Ellen whimpered.

“Normal falling resumes at five pony-heights above the bottom of the shaft. And then there’s the distance from there to the water…”

Luke sighed. “Did I hear her hit her head on the side of the shaft?”

“Roll for it. Your Hear Noises skill is 20%. Bumble’s is a little higher, so I’ll roll for him, too.”

The rogue’s player rolled and smiled as he nodded to M.J., showing her an 18 on his percentile dice.

Mary Jo looked at Luke. “So, are you going to say anything?”

“Falling!’ Then I would do my best to help, depending on what actions my teammates make.”

Mary Jo starts counting out loud, slowly. “One...two…”

“I drink my Potion of Speed!” Susan exclaims.

“...Three…”

“Web! I cast Web!” exclaimed Gary quickly. “Anchor it about three pony-heights from the opening, so if she bounces she won’t hurt herself, and if she breaks through we can still do something.”

Luke nodded at each plan, before stating his own. “I grab the rope and lower myself into the water so I can grab hold of her if all else fails and she starts to drift downstream.”

“OK. Facet prepares her own Feather Fall spell. How long does Web take to cast?”

“Two segments,” answered Gary. This wasn’t the first time when lives were on the line for this particular spell.

Mary Jo sucked in some air. “That’s going to be pretty close. Twelve whole seconds.” She did some work with a pocket calculator. “Yeah, that’s going to take too long. You should have cast it closer to the water. OK, Facet has committed to casting Feather Fall even if it’s a waste of time. Which is a good thing, because it isn’t. It takes effect when Midnight is about halfway between the roof and the water. Facet is Second Level, so the spell will cover eight pony-heights worth of safe falling. She was…” More work on the calculator. “That covers it. She was five above the water when the spell took hold. If Facet had actually cast the spell the instant when she emerged from the shaft, it would have worn off. Midnight incurs no damage when she hits the water. Ellen, roll a Constitution check to see if you wake up on hitting the water.”

Ellen rolled, and then sighed in relief. “Two? Good luck for once?”

“You wake up, sputter a bit, and swim over to the boat, where you are fished out.”

“I use a towel to dry Midnight off,” said Susan.

Together, Susan and Mary Jo said the words “very, very fast.” On account of the Potion of Speed that was still in effect.

“I...suppose that would work,” said Ellen. “‘Thank you but I don’t need to be rubbed down through my coat. I...apologize for putting everypony through that. I’ve actually never climbed a rope before,’ Midnight admits.” Ellen shrugged, pointing to her sheet. “Scholar. She’s got nothin’ when it comes to this.”

“It’s OK,” M.J. said with a laugh. “Itty Bitty has just recovered from her mini heart attack. ‘You’re alive!’ she exclaims, hugging you fiercely. ‘Don’t ever die on us again!’”

“‘I don’t plan on it. Let’s ready ourselves for the bats, and head downstream, Who is good with an oar?’” Ellen asked, looking around the table.

“What is that third oar for?!” Gary demanded. He looked like he’d been trying to figure this out for the past ten minutes or so.

“Really?” Mary Jo asked. “Do you want me to force an Intelligence check on you?”

“Is it for pushing off the walls?” Luke asked quietly.

“Close,” said Mary Jo.

“Ah, to hell with it,” Gary said, picking up his 20-sided die and rolling it. “3.”

M.J. spread out her words for maximum drama. “It...is for...the vital job...of...steering.”

“Oh. Right. Because this is a canoe and doesn’t have a rudder.”

“Yes!”

“You don’t have to get an attitude about it,” Gary said with a self-conscious sniff. “I never made the sculling team at Oxford!”

“Guys, Torn Deck has the potion of speed in effect, so he should row, before it wears off. I bet the bats couldn’t even catch us.”

“I’m casting Silence anyway,” said Gary. “In fact, I’m definitely casting it. A super-fast boat has got to be noisy.”

“Make sure to slow down once we are past the bats, we want a controlled landing—not a crash,” Ellen said as she wrote something down and passed it to M.J. The note said “Do I have a headache or any lasting damage from the head impact and fall?”

“You know, I would have completely forgotten about that if you didn’t remind me,” M.J. said with a wicked grin. “Roll 1d4 damage. No permanent effects otherwise.”

“I wouldn’t want Midnight to be in pain and me not know about it,” Ellen said somberly as she rolled a three and marked it down. “I’m at 5 hit points. I ready my only Cure Light Wounds that I have left, in case I take any more damage.”

Mary Jo’s smile vanished, to be replaced by a look of guilt. “Right,” she said.

Luke looked between the two with a bit of confusion. “Relax gals, it’s just a game.”

He flinched at the look the two of them gave him from both sides.

“Bumble flies up above you. ‘So, now that we’re all in here, do we just cut the rope, or do you want me to fly up there and recover it?’”

“‘No!’” exclaimed Gary. “‘Never remove a rope opportunity. We might need it to get out of here in a hurry.’”

“‘Can I start rowing now?’” asked Susan as Torn Deck. “‘This potion doesn’t last forever. I promise I’ll hoof over the oars to somepony else when we get close to the ledge.’ Bracing myself, I cut through the rope with my dagger.”

“Alright,” said M.J. “Thanks for not chopping it, or I’d have to see if anybody got tossed overboard. You cut loose, and start drifting downstream.”

Susan looked at her map. “Should we try this northern passage that Bumble found, or just go straight to the landing?”

“I’d say the landing,” Ellen said, biting her lip. “We don’t want to go beyond our explored zone.” The fact that she was zoned out when said passage was found had nothing to do with her decision.

“So Torn Deck starts rowing,” said M.J. “Thanks to the Silence spell, you get past the bat area, with not even one of the animals appearing. You continue on, letting somepony else take over for the approach to the shelf.” She looked to see who it was going to be.

“I guess I could do it,” said Gary after a few seconds of nobody else volunteering.

“And Facet takes care of the steering, as I guess she’s been doing the whole time. So, you continue on until you reach the shelf.” M.J. looked down and started rather obviously reading text straight from the adventure: “The river pours into a high-vaulted cavern from your entrance in the southeast, adding to the ebon-hued lake that touches the walls nearly everywhere. The water is fairly still here and is probably very deep indeed. More than sixteen pony-heights overhead, great stalactites drip onto the mirror-like lake surface of the pool.

“There are four streams of water entering or exiting the lake. To the southwest, the water pours over a lip in a 3-hoof waterfall. To the west is a large eddy, on the surface of which can be seen circling bits of flotsam. To the northwest is a passage under a natural stone bridge, and to the northeast, a somewhat narrower passage heads off into darkness.

“It appears that there are three landings as well. To the south (the one you got the boat from), the landing gives way to a passage leading southwest. To the west, the landing branches in two directions, and to the north, the landing there leads off to the northwest.

“What do you do?”

“‘I’d say we get to that ledge, a spot to gather ourselves as well as a good vantage point.’ Carry On moves to reach out and grab it as we pass.” Luke held up a die, waiting to see if M.J. wanted him to roll.

“The current is slow enough that even if you missed, you could keep coming back again and again until you succeeded. You’re beached. Does anypony get out of the boat? I mean, besides Bumble, who’s been hovering above the boat the entire time. Oh, and getting out cancels the Silence spell, FYI.”

Ellen raised her hand. “Midnight steps off and looks herself over, trying to see if she really needs to heal herself immediately or not.”

“Her health hasn’t been deteriorating, but she won’t regain any hit points without a full night of sleep.”

“‘Well, I’m not in the greatest of shape, everypony, but I don’t want to use my healing immediately. We have a lot to do still. Does anyone have potions or minor healing that could keep me up?’ Midnight looks around, especially to Carry.” Ellen looked to Luke and raised an eyebrow, only for him to scoff.

“‘Well, why would you assume that I would hoard such valuable items to myself, Miss Sparkle?’ He said haughtily. “Um...Cutbelt? I have two bags I didn’t have time to open, anything like that in those?”

“A bunch of broken glass in one, and an intact red-colored potion in the other.”

Ellen smiled. “‘Well then, what’s that you just found?’”

“‘Um...well...’ Does Carry know if it’s a healing potion or not?” Luke asked curiously.

“It’s the right color,” said M.J., noncommittally.

Gary sighed. “I’ve used up my Detect Magic spell, but I also have a wand of Detect Magic, with eight charges. I could use that, then you’d know for certain.”

“‘I’d appreciate it,’ Midnight offers Burnished a few silver in compensation,” Ellen said with a smile.

Luke shrugged. “I give the bottle over, no grumbling.”

“Burnished gives back the coins. ‘Save it for when you ask for something I’ll really hate to do. I put the bottle down on one of the planks and use the wand.”

“You see the potion glow a particular color, which signifies healing. A flash of a different color comes from between the planks, the color of evocation. And the boat glows more faintly with a combination of alteration and evocation.”

“Oooh, pretty. I’m going to assume that it’s all going to kill us,” Luke said cheerfully.

Ellen chuckled. “I drink the potion, how much better do I feel?”

Mary Jo rolls a couple of times. “10 hit points. Too bad you weren’t closer to death’s door.”

“Yeah, but we are level one, so we don’t want to accidentally take one big hit.”

“I check around for tunnels, stairways, ladders,” Luke said, almost interrupting Ellen.

“Like I said, the passage from the landing goes southwest. It also goes around a curve, so you’d have to walk out of sight of the others to follow it. There’s nothing else that you can reach from here—you’d have to get back in the boat to go anywhere else.”

“Midnight sits up, feeling a bit better. ‘What do you all think, head down the tunnel?’ I also am speaking to Facet and Itty Bitty.”

“I’m out of spells,” Gary said. “Assuming this area is safe, I’d say call an early night and start exploring tomorrow.”

“Well, what about something coming from that tunnel?” Susan asked.

Gary shrugged. “Who knows how far you’d have to explore to feel safe in that direction? There’s that eddy in the water—we could park the boat there, and nothing would be able to get to us from the land.”

“‘But...is the water safe?’ asks Itty Bitty.”

“Torn Deck peers into the water.”

“You see some white fish and crayfish. All quite large, but neither looking the slightest bit predatory. They shy away from the boat.”

“Can we see all the way down to the bottom?”

“No, but the clarity of the water should tell you something.”

“So...if there was something down there, it would stir up the muck or something?”

“Yeah, that.”

Ellen frowned. “‘All our options are iffy...I wonder, would anyone mind if I called upon Celestia? I feel...uncertain. I’d like her advice.’”

“Go for it,” said Garry.

“I always condone divine intervention,” Susan said with a grin.

“Great! I raise my hooves up and pray. ‘Celestia...I need your guidance, yet again. I’m sorry I keep doing this.’” Ellen reenacted her pony’s motions, raising her hands—curled into “hooves”—and closing her eyes.

“‘How may I assist you, my little pony?’ a voice speaks to you. She seems inordinately pleased at that last phrase she used.”

“Huh... ‘We have no idea what we are doing, and I was wondering if you have some grand design we should skip along that wouldn’t involve me getting hurt.’ Midnight is being extra candid today,” Ellen noted.

“‘Well, I assume you’ve gone into the cavern already, or I would have told you about a shaft that leads to the underground river. That’s the safest way in by far. As it is, you’ll have to take the southeast passage from the main hall to the Ridiculously Long Tunnel Full of Flesh-Eating Bats, then take the first left to the ledge with the magic boat. After that—’”

“‘Woah woah woah, it’s actually called the Ridiculously Long Tunnel Full of Flesh-Eating Bats? That’s harsh, um...we have the magic boat, and we are on the ledge. From here, where do we go?” Ellen asked.

“‘Actually, that’s my own name. I suggest you consult a more...authoritative god for the true name.’ (It’s the Corridor of Limitless Bats, if you must know.) ‘Well, you can either go against the current west to the northern passage, or you can risk going over the small waterfall and follow the northwest passage to the Gargoyle Bridge. Of course, the current is quite swift at that point, and if you miss that, you will surely fall off the Gorge of Eternal Peril... Which is not survivable.’ Oh, she seems to be in fine form tonight.”

“‘Wow Celestia, you are...anyway, I don’t want us to die, so how do we get to Gargoyle Bridge without falling off the ‘Gorge of Eternal Peril’? Because I don’t want that to happen.’ Midnight cracks one eye open to see if Celestia is actually there with them, because that would be so cool.”

“You open your eyes and look around. The others are just looking at you. ‘So, are you going to start?’ asks Facet. ‘You only just closed your eyes a second ago.’ There is no response from Celestia.”

“‘Um, right, right. I close my eyes again,’” Ellen said, shrugging.

“‘You stop the boat. Seeing that it’s a gargoyle bridge that you’ll be passing under, you could rope one of the gargoyles. Or you can figure out how to control the magic boat. I could see that it was controllable, but didn’t have the time to work out if it operated by buttons, or magic words, or what have you. But I imagine you’ve done that all already. I must say, that was rather convenient of Eggswife, to leave a good-aligned magic boat for everybody to sail around on. She must have wanted all of her would-be pillagers to visit each and every one of her trapped locations, and so provided the most convenient means of travel possible.’” Mary Jo sighed. “You all should be so glad that Celestia is not the P.H., because I’ve got the feeling she’d have pulled a ‘rocks fall, everyone dies’ on the majority of parties I’ve had to deal with. Not you, though. You’re great.”

Luke just laughed aloud, shaking his head in wonderment, as Ellen smirked.

“‘Right, right,’” said Ellen as Midnight to Celestia. “‘We will figure out how to control the boat, or something. What happens once we get to the bridge?’”

“‘Climb up onto the bridge, then go west. You will enter the lair of a creature I have never encountered before, similar to a chimera, but with the parts of a dragon, a lion, and a gorgon. It is an evil and treacherous being, and I am uncertain if there is any non-violent way to deal with it. If you can get past that, there is a passageway in the back of the lair that leads to a blocked-off area. Clear that, and you will have found the only entrance to the lower level of the caverns. I would advise consulting me again before making that descent, as the next level is even more dangerous, and it would take far too long for me to recount paths to take that you might not remember after the trial of facing the chimeric creature.’”

Ellen sat, wide eyed and staring at her sister. “You just gave me the key to the whole game,” she said out of character.

Mary Jo crossed her arms and matched Ellen’s gaze. “No, you got that already—and no, I am not telling you what that is. This is just blatant cheating.”

Luke looked between the two. Then he cracked his knuckles and, for the first time all game, leaned forward to rest his arms on the table, showing real interest in the proceedings. “This...is going to be interesting.”

Gary sighed. “I never could get the hang of performance art.”

Ellen grinned. “Okay... ‘Thank you for your help, Celestia, we will consult you again as soon as possible.’”

“‘Oh, one last thing,’ Celestia quickly says. ‘If you need someplace safe to sleep, stick with the boat landing. The lake has some living rock monsters hiding among the stalactites above it, and the bats never venture around the corner into your area.’” Mary Jo sat quietly for a few seconds. “Excuse me a moment,” she said, then grabbed a handful of dice and flung it into the audience with a look of rage. “There, all better now.”

“Gah! What was that for?” Ellen asked, shocked.

“Celestia just gave all my random encounters away! What do you expect me to do, sit here and put up with it?” She then got up to get another bag of dice out of her carrying case.

“I...fine,” Ellen said hopelessly, looking to the crowd with an apologetic shrug.

“Sweet! Mary Jo Powell’s d100!” an audience member cried. “And all I had to do to get it was catch it with my eye!”

“I open my eyes and look around,” announced Ellen. “‘So! We stay on the ledge, so that we won’t get attacked by the rock monsters hanging above the lake, and the bats down the hall don’t come this way. We rest, eat...do we have rations? We have to have rations, right?”

“I have rations for about half the party,” Luke said.

“And I’ve got the other half,” said Susan.

“And Facet and Itty Bitty brought enough for themselves and two extra, which is good, because you didn’t plan to have a hungry breezie join your party when you planned this out. You eat and, unless you tell me otherwise, you get right to sleep and getting your spells back.”

“Indeed. We do that, and I want to sleep with one hoof over the side of the boat to keep it from drifting away from where most of us are sleeping on the shore,” Luke advised.

“Should any of us even sleep in the boat?” asked Gary. “I mean what if it’s haunted?”

“Haunted?” asked Mary Jo. “By what? No, seriously, I’d really like to know.”

“By...the ghost of the tree it was made from?” speculated Gary.

“Ah-ha-ha-ha-ha!” laughed Mary Jo. “You guys are making this like, the best boat ever! Also, it might be smart for Midnight to confide something she learned from Celestia.”

“‘Oh, right! So a few things.’ Firstly, I explain the whole cave system and everything we will have to face. Then I explain that the boat isn’t evil, and that it likely has a control command, but I don’t know what it is. Or a button or something. I wonder if it has something to do with the third oar...”

“‘Just so long as one of the commands doesn’t translate as, “eat all the passengers like an angry Muppet”,’” remarked Gary. “I stand up and remove those loose planks.”

“Underneath you find a small mast, wrapped in stiff white fabric.”

“I unfurl it,” said Gary.

“It’s a square sail, covered with a large rune on either side.”

“Any chance there’s a manual under where the mast and sail were?”

“Nope.”

“I put everything back where it was. We’ll mess with magic boat powers in the morning. Anyway, sleeping in a boat has got to be uncomfortable. Why don’t we just flip it over so it won’t move, and camp around it?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Susan.

“So, bedtime?”

Ellen nodded as she looked to her sister apprehensively. “Bedtime.”

Chapter 32: An Alternative Theory

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 32: An Alternative Theory

Laura looked up at the elderly woman who had just sat down beside her in the stands.

“You’re Laura Curtis, aren’t you?” the woman asked. “The adventure writer for Ponies & Dragons? I’m Dorothy Reichart. I’m interested in writing a screenplay about the Powells. Or perhaps a prose biography...my mother always said I should have gotten into book writing…”

Laura tilted her head a bit at seeing the woman drift off into a tangent without even waiting to hear her reply. “Yes, I’m Laura Curtis,” she said, holding out a hand. “And they’ll never let you do it in a million years.”

“Oh I know,” Dorothy said, taking the hand in both of hers and shaking it. “Probably won’t stop me, though. I was wondering if you know anything about how Mrs. Powell down there was inspired to write the adventure that they are currently playing.”

“I’m afraid I can’t help you there,” said Laura. “I wasn’t involved in that one at all. In fact, I probably shouldn’t even be here, considering my own professional problems with HWI. But...this is the long-anticipated reunion of a legendary role-playing group, not likely to be repeated for years, so I just had to put my personal feelings aside to watch.”

“The Valiant Bees?” Dorothy asked. “I’ve done a little bit of research, you see.”

“Yes, that was them. They practically narrate the Second Edition of the Player’s Handbook,” Laura replied. “As for this adventure, I haven’t had a chance to read it yet, so I’m struggling to keep track.”

“Oh, I’ve read it,” Dorothy told her. “My granddaughter is the Pony Handler for the Young Women’s table, and as I was staying with her family at the time, I was exposed to the concepts of the adventure quite often. I’m looking forward to the point where the Founder’s Group discovers that both tables are playing the same adventure.”

“Oh, they are? I hadn’t even tried to keep track of the other two groups,” Laura admitted.

“Yes, they are. And that will introduce very interesting complications in less than an hour.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. ‘Lost Caverns of Soup Candy’ is introducing something completely new to role-playing games: the idea of a shared story.”

Laura frowned. “Is that what all that sales gibberish on the back cover was about?”

Dorothy nodded. “Yes. In-story, the last part of the game is magically joined for all adventuring teams ever. Practically speaking, the Pony Handler is asked to periodically check on the state of the game, using either an automated phone system or a computer with a modem connected to a dedicated CompuServe forum.”

“Wow, you seem more up to date on this computer stuff than I am.”

“Thanks,” Dorothy said with a smile. “You wouldn’t believe how much easier screenwriting has become with a computer.”

“So I guess that means that anything the Founder’s Group does will affect your granddaughter’s group, and vice-versa?” Laura asked.

“Only for the final part of the game,” Dorothy answered. “For instance, when the Founders took the magic boat, it had no effect on Alexia’s group, which came upon their own boat at nearly the same time. But when they get to the end, if somebody takes a particular treasure, nobody else will be able to take it. And if somebody accidentally blows up the entire caverns, then that will kill not only them, but also any P&D group in the world that happens to be playing that section at that time.”

“Wow, that...that sounds like Horsewords is going to get a lot of complaints from people playing this game after today,” said Laura.

Dorothy thought about this. “Yes, probably. If Mrs. Powell has any sense, she’ll reset the state of the game on CompuServe after tonight’s game, to nip those complaints in the bud.”

“So that explains why you’ve been watching both games,” said Laura. “What do you think about Celestia?”

“This isn’t how these games normally go, is it?” Dorothy asked. “I haven’t seen too many of my granddaughter’s games, so I wasn’t sure.”

“No, this isn’t normal at all. It’s sort of...freaky,” Laura said, with a bit of a shudder.

“I wonder what Mrs. Powell is up to with this tactic, taking the power of choice away from her players? Perhaps it’s because Celestia is the only sympathetic deity in Pony & Dragons’ pantheon? The others are described in the Player’s Manual as enjoying the trials of the ponies who worship them, as if reality was a sort of game to them.”

“As it is,” Laura commented. “Seeing that the gods and the Pony Handlers are one and the same.”

“Ah, I see what you mean,” said Dorothy. “So in this case, is it possible that this play session is designed as a rebuke to Ellen Powell and her ‘followers’, those who have been pushing to make Celestia an active element of the game? To show that if Celestia was involved, the result would be so much helpful cheating on behalf of her followers that games would no longer be fun to play?”

“An interesting theory,” Laura said, rubbing her chin. “But what about the character of Hope? She seems to be as much a part of M.J.’s scheme as Celestia.”

“That I’m not sure of,” Dorothy admitted. “But if I was forced to guess, I would turn to Hellenic mythology, and speculate that Hope was the daughter of Celestia by some famous adventurer.”

Laura sat up straight on hearing this. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “Oh, that would be good. What a story I could write from that premise: a goddess, doing anything to protect the daughter she cannot admit to having. Throw in the political complications from Midnight Sparkle’s backstory, an implied forbidden attraction between master and servant, and between goddess and worshipper, add in a heaping helping of dragons...this would make a fantastic spin-off novel! Assuming that she ever wants to speak with me again, I simply must pitch this to M.J.! I will of course give you due credit.”

“Oh no,” Dorothy said with a smile. “You’re clearly willing to fill in the details, and that is where a writer truly earns their pay. Take all the credit.”

“Ah...thank you,” said Laura. She turned to face the players. “So, how much did we miss?”

Chapter 33: Escort Mission

Author's Note

Ah, Chapter 33. Or, as McPoodle likes to call it, the "we're bringing the band back together" chapter.

Chapter 33: Escort Mission

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 33: Escort Mission

The unicorn strike force—it wasn’t quite big enough to justify the name of “army”—set out from the capital of Unicornia a couple of hours before dawn. Little was told to the common soldier as to the goals of this particular maneuver. Considering that both of the royal brothers were involved, the consensus was that yet another meaningless promotion was in the offing—perhaps Prince Trove would end up as Grand Captain Marshall Supremo this time.

The Crown Prince was fed a steady diet of pastries and fine coffees as rode in a palanquin beside Blueblood. “So what are we doing this time?” he asked. “I slept through Mommy’s little speech.”

“Just stick your head outside every few hours and wave,” Blueblood said darkly. “That’ll probably be enough.”

“How fortunate!” Trove exclaimed. “I’m extremely good at that.” So he stuck his head outside, looked around, and came back in. “We’re slowing down.”

“Wave some more,” his brother instructed him. Great, he thought, Horn’s Reach. Here comes the fun part.

“And now we’ve stopped!” Trove complained over his shoulder. “Would you be a sweet little brother and go take care of it?”

“Oh very well,” Blueblood said with a playful roll of his eyes. He hopped down to the ground, used his magic to properly disarray his dress uniform, and strolled leisurely to the front of the line. “Ah,” he said, on seeing who was leading the group of ponies keeping them from proceeding, “the famed Captain Sparkle herself! Thank you ever so much for your punctuality. If you would join our little group, we can be on our way. We actually don’t need your troop though, excellent as they are. You see, this operation would greatly benefit from speed. No offense.”

The mare stepped up to Blueblood, a bit closer than was really necessary, to stare directly into the Prince’s eyes. “I know,” she said simply and firmly, before turning and waving to a few troops. Two of them joined her, and the rest moved to fall into line with the rest of the group.

“Our troops are quite fast,” the colt on her back said eagerly, bowing his head a few degrees toward Blueblood. “We’ve only got the best with us right now, and will not slow you at all, Your Highness.”

“Excellent, excellent!” Blueblood exclaimed. “Shall we be on our way, then?”

The colt held out a hoof in a plea for patience. “Well, we’ve figured out that you are on your way, that is to say...we know where you are going but I’m afraid that we haven’t been told why. This information would be most helpful in figuring out whether we are here in a combative or aid role, it would also—”

“Ah, yes, yes of course!” Blueblood said glibly, putting a leg around the Captain’s withers. “Just between you and me, of course, but we’re here to escort a diplomatic envoy across Equestria. Guard duty on the hoof, more or less. Of course, if anypony happens to object to our presence, then things might get a little bit ugly, but I’m sure you’re up for that! You’re Captain Sparkle, for crying out loud! There’s no mess that you couldn’t handle!”

Captain Moonlight Sparkle turned her head slowly, before grabbing Blueblood’s hoof with her magic, and lifting it off of her. “Except for a dagger in the back,” she said, examining the Prince closely and then straightening the curl of his mane with a hoof. “You’ve given us enough hollow reassurances to keep us from asking you any more delicate questions. But let me reassure you, I will hold you responsible for the result of this maneuver, not the figurehead in the carriage.” She then waved him away. “You may go.”

“Why, thank you, Captain,” Blueblood said with an exaggerated bow, then turning to his forces. “Now let’s move out!”

#

The expedition crossed the border into the no-pony’s land theoretically claimed by the non-existent Earth Pony Presidency, and wheeled southwards.

Trove was performing his waving exercise like usual when he happened to glance up. “Brother,” he asked. “Why are there so many birds in the sky?”

Blueblood smiled to himself. “It must be the time of their annual migration.”

“Oh,” said Trove.

A few minutes later he asked, “Aren’t birds supposed to go south this time of year? These birds are flying west.”

“Well,” said Blueblood, “they probably have a pegasus leading them.”

Trove bust out into raucous laughter. “Probably!” he cried.

There was a brisk knock on the carriage side.

“I’d stick my head out,” said Trove, “but I might get it knocked on!”

“Yes, I suppose I should take the lumps instead,” said Blueblood.

“Bravo!” cried Trove.

“Yes?” Blueblood asked, peeking outside.

The captain’s brother, bouncing in time with her trot, nodded to Blueblood.

“Sir, there appears to be a large flight of armored but non-combative dragons overhead. Are we supposed to engage them or escort them?” he asked simply.

“Oh, the dragons are the group we’re supposed to be escorting,” Blueblood said nonchalantly. “It appears they have devised an ingenious method for not wanting to kill every pony they lay eyes on. Did I neglect to inform you of this earlier?”

The colt nodded, smiling as though this was all a joke. “Indeed you did. It looks like Moonlight has won yet another bet. In the future, do be so kind as to inform us regarding such unusual and exceptional details, it would almost seem like you’re trying to test her patience.”

The captain, mid stride, turned her head to glare at Blueblood, before facing front again.

“I am so sorry!” Blueblood said, putting a hoof to his chest. “It must have been all of those mimosas I had for breakfast.”

“Mimosas!” cried Trove from inside the carriage. “Are you holding out on me?”

“So let’s see, what should I have told you? We’re crossing the border—well, we wouldn’t have come by your neck of the woods if we weren’t planning on crossing the border, so that’s not much of a secret. We’re escorting dragons.” He put his hoof to his chin. “And there’s something else, I’m sure of it…”

The two Sparkles waited patiently as the group marched onward past the walls of Redfern, and the colt took on an ever increasingly incredulous expression.

“Were you dropped on your head as a foal!?” He finally asked the prince, tossing up his hooves and clipboard in exasperation.

“Oh repeatedly,” Blueblood answered. “What was the name of that game you played with me, Brother?”

“Bluebloodball!” cried the voice from inside. “Your head was ever so springy!”

“There you have it,” Blueblood said before leaning in close. “Although confidentially, the young heir had an odd habit of mistaking his own head for my mine from time to time.”

“The royal family, everypony,” Moonlight muttered.

“Oh, here we are!” Blueblood cried out, pointing at the road that led down from the Canterhorn, occupied by dozens of dragons walking in formation. “And I finally remembered! We’re going to be paying a visit to the Inn in Hoofington. But no time for that! We have formations to plan, and ranks to coordinate!” He hopped down from the palanquin before the stunned Sparkles, and raced off to greet the lead of the dragon expedition.

As he rushed away, two wide-eyed Sparkles wrote out and quickly sent a magically impregnated scroll, knowing that their father would likely be too late to join them. Moonlight kept her gaze on the Prince’s back, no doubt left in her mind that Blueblood was something more than an inept fool. Something much more.

At the front of the dragon column was a thin iridescent blue drake, not even three times the size of an average pony. He was dressed in a sharp navy blue uniform that complemented the dull blue helmet that allowed him to think clearly while in Equestria. “Prince Commander Generalissimo Blueblood,” he said with a sharp salute. “I am Praporshchik Hanrielt of the Green Tribe, requesting an escort to the Inn of the Prancing Pony, in your fair country.”

“It is an honor to finally meet you,” Blueblood said after matching the salute. “I have heard but the merest rumors of your expedition against New Mooscovy, but what battles they must have been!”

“I am gratified that word of my deeds has traveled so far. As to battles, well, with any luck, there shall be no battle today,” Hanrielt replied.

“Oh, that is my most heartfelt wish,” said the prince. “Equestria shall be put once again upon the path of Harmony, and the less blood shed, the better.”

“A curious thing to say, considering how very well armed your force is,” commented Kameneva from a few ranks behind the dragon commander.

“This is to get us to the Inn,” said the Prince, sweeping a hoof over the terrain to the west. “All of the land between here and there is infested with adventurers. Engaging with them is contrary to our goals, but the best way to prevent such a confrontation would be a show of force!”

“That’s funny—I thought a pair of these did the job just as well,” said one of the other dragons, casually displaying his massive wingspan.

“Yes,” the Prince said with a smirk, “I suppose those would fill the need to intimidate. Well, are we ready to begin?”

Hanrielt looked back at his forces, and their looks of encouragement. “Yes,” he declared. “Let this historic mission begin!”

The “historic mission” began with walking.

“Ugh, this is taking forever!” Prince Trove complained. “And how come you never let me talk to the dragons?”

“Oh, I am doing you a great favor, Brother,” Blueblood answered, trotting alongside the palanquin. “You see, they all smell of red cabbages.”

“Oh, I despise red cabbages!” Trove replied. “Say, what is that dark and nasty wood over there?”

“That is the dark and nasty wood, brother. The Everfree.”

“The Everfree! Oh, tell me we aren’t going in there!”

“Brother, that would be suicide, even for one as incredibly brave as you are. No, we shall be getting a lift from our new allies.”

#

A few minutes later:

“Oh, I say!” Trove exclaimed from his dragon mount, pointing downwards. “That one is positively blood-curdling!”

“Yes,” Blueblood replied laconically from beside him. “I believe it is known as a sloth.”

“The horror!”

Most of the dragons were big enough to carry two or even three ponies upon their backs, secured with rope harnesses. The dragons on the edge of the formation were riderless, to maximize their ability to respond quickly to threats. Hanreilt had no rider, and in fact was too small for one; Kameneva carried Muddy Pie, who had somehow remained unnoticed by any pony or dragon the entire trip.

As they flew, the dragons saw many awestruck or downright terrified ponies below. A few attempted to throw spears or fire magical bolts at them, but none caused any noticeable damage. In less than an hour, they were able to swoop down to utterly surround the Inn of the Prancing Pony.

Mr. Silver was the first pony to dare to emerge from the structure and oddly, he seemed ecstatic.

“At last! At last!” he exclaimed. “I knew that we would be admitting dragon applicants one day, but that fool Nestoria refused to believe me! I can’t wait to see the look on her face!”

Muddy hopped down from Kameneva’s back and approached the doorpony. “Excuse me, are you in charge here?” he asked sweetly.

“Well, not as such...I take care of the place while the gods are away. How may I help you?”

“We’re looking for an earth pony named Hope Springs. We’re all here looking for Hope Springs.”

Mr. Silver cast his eyes about him, at the dragon and armed unicorns that surrounded him on all sides. He began to suspect that these weren’t all applicants. “Ah...never heard of her?”

“No, I think you do know her,” said Prince Blueblood, trotting over to join his servant. “Or perhaps you recall the pony she accompanied here, one Midnight Sparkle?”

“Ah, the Lady Midnight Sparkle! I never forget an applicant. Yes, she was here.”

“And did anything untoward happen when she became an adventurer?” Blueblood asked intently.

“No...no, not that I can recall.”

Blueblood frowned. A pity, he thought. It appears that I threw her life away for nothing. I’m blaming her for being far too convincing when she told me she had a way to defeat them.

“Did Hope Springs speak out of turn, for an average retainer?” the Captain asked, not bothering to declare herself as she approached the three.

“That’s right, she did have a retainer. To be honest, I never really pay much attention to retainers. Adventurers pretty much treat them as cannon-fodder, so it’s kind of a waste of time, you see. This particular one showed a bit of impertinence at first, but that was soon corrected. And she accompanied Lady Sparkle after her change, but at that point it had become adventurer’s prerogative. Are you perhaps relatives”—and rather intimidating acquaintances—“of this ‘Springs’ pony?”

“You could say that,” Blueblood said, tapping the top of an ornate wooden box he had brought out from the palanquin with him. “You could say that we’ve got something for her.”

“Oh, well you’re a bit late,” Mr. Silver replied. “Lady Sparkle and her party—and half of the Inn—left for the Unicorn Range about three days ago. I wouldn’t worry—about Lady Sparkle anyway. Her party included Burnished Lore, one of Equestria’s greatest experts on monsters and tomb delving.”

Captain Sparkle sighed, and shook her head. “Hope will not have remained there for long. From what I understand, the Inn and its effects would be her focus.” She turned to look directly as Blueblood. “Is this the part where we invade the Inn? It is your plan, after all.”

Mr. Silver looked around him nervously. “Is it?”

Blueblood rubbed his chin, and looked up at Praporshchik Hanrielt. “It’s not like the gods live in the Inn,” he said. “At least, that was the conclusion reached by my intelligence.”

“So what are we here for?” asked the dragon commander.

“Well, to provoke a confrontation, to force the powers that be to recognize the inevitability of victory and surrender. I mean, we could burn down the Inn…”

Mr. Silver whimpered.

“...But that seems rather a waste. Also, I was rather desirous of meeting Miss Springs first, just in case she had the kind of incredibly genius plans she’s known for. Oh, I suppose a bit of pageantry is called for. Prince! Prince Trove!”

“Yes?” asked the crown prince, emerging from the back of the crowd.

“We are going to tear down the gods, you and me.”

“Tear down the...have you lost leave of your senses?!”

“No, no, it’s finally time for us to do our duty as princes. Now you begin.”

“What...what shall I do?”

“You remember what you said you’d do if you ever met Foaltus?”

“You mean, the one who arranged for the kidnapping of Father?”

“Yes.”

“Now? In front of all these po...people? But it was rude!”

“Sometimes rudeness is called for,” Blueblood said, stepping back and holding a hoof aloft in his brother’s direction. “Sometimes it is necessary to say the unspeakable, and draw down the very lightning of the gods! You’re the elder, so I’ll let you go first.”

Trove frowned at his brother. “I won’t forget this, Brother.”

“Oh I do hope you will, Brother, because that would mean that you survived to remember.”

“Quite. Now then: Hey Foaltus! You with the robe!”

What followed was one of the most bizarre diatribes ever heard by dragon ears, involving far too many references to the ingredients of dog food.

All of which accomplished...nothing. Well, practically nothing.

“That’s funny,” observed Edgar. “My ears are burning for some reason.”

“Huh,” Muddy said quietly to Blueblood. “Normally, that would have done something. The gods must be really busy today.”

“Well that’s no good!” Blueblood exclaimed. “I’ve got a schedule to keep! Look, Silver?”

“Yes?” Mr. Silver looked a good deal more relaxed than before. He began to think that he might not have to hire contractors to fix the Inn again.

“Is Hope Springs in the Inn? We really need to talk to her.”

“No,” said Mr. Silver flatly.

Blueblood looked around him. “What about that building?”

“The stable? Possibly.”

Captain Sparkle nodded and waved over three of her soldiers, before marching toward the stable.

Blueblood could practically feel control of the situation slipping away from him. “This party of adventurers, did it by any chance include a pegasus named Firebelle?”

“No,” said Mr. Silver. “And before you ask, no Firebelle ever arrived at the Inn. We were expecting her, but...well, not everypony makes it through the Everfree. My, uh...condolences. If, once again, she was somepony dear to you.”

Blueblood winced. “Oh, Rigged is not going to like that.”

Silver blanched. “Rigged. As in Rigged Bee.”

“Oh yes, they were quite close.”

Blueblood was gratified to see that he had put the doorkeeper back in panic mode, but otherwise, he had accomplished nothing, and was pretty much at the end of his rope by this point. “Look, this group...they’re just going out to raid another dracolisk lair, right?” He then looked nervously over his shoulder at the dragons. “Ah...no offence.”

He was answered only with a dozen glares.

“No, no, this is one of the deluxe packages,” Mr. Silver said glibly. “They’re off to save the world.”

#

In the distance, Captain Sparkle was marching into the stable, and her little brother was asking the ponies in a large common room about Hope Springs.

“Hope Springs?” said Copper Plate, looking up from her magnum opus. “She saved me from becoming an adventurer! I’m documenting the whole incredible story, for all the world to know. There will be wizards, and warriors, and a dozen dragons…” She happened to look out the window. “Wow!” she exclaimed, racing over with a new sheet of paper. “So many models!” Sorrel, standing at the back of the room, merely rolled his eyes.

Moonlight looked over to Sorrel.

“What about you? Do you know where Hope Springs has gone?”

“She left with Midnight,” the earth pony reported. “To keep her out of trouble long enough to return to herself. After all, the Lady did succeed one out of four tries.”

The Captain tilted her head slightly. “I’m so sorry, I’m poor of hearing, what was that? One out of four?”

“Lady Sparkle, my sister, Copper’s sister, and Copper herself. All four were slated to become adventurers, all four wore Lady Sparkle’s possession-proof inventions overnight, and the next morning, Copper’s still Copper, and the others are...well, you know.”

“Interesting... What did Hope Springs have to do with this process?”

“She seemed to me to be the Lady’s assistant in the matter. So with the Lady herself removed from the scene, that would leave Miss Springs as the only one with any understanding of how the process worked. Maybe not well enough to make another cloak, but enough to eventually reconstruct the Lady’s work, given time. The best course of action would be for the Lady to reach ‘retirement’, so that was Hope’s goal in the interim. Besides, Copper’s sister was in the same party as the Lady, so it was a two-for-one deal, if you get my drift.”

“I see.” Captain Sparkle turned to leave, but seemed to think better of it. “One last question. Do any of Midnight’s friends have a chosen deity that is...less than conventional?”

“Well, most of us don’t know or care, but one or two are simply...Forsaken.”

The Captain did an about face and stepped closer to him. “Say the name.”

“Can I?” Sorrel asked. “There are consequences, this close to their bastion.”

“Fine, then I will ask for confirmation in another way.” From her armor, a medallion of the sun was pulled and dropped to the floor to roll in a tight circle, glinting gold in the candle light.

“Is that their goddess?”

“That’s the one,” Sorrel said. “Her, and her uncorrupted sister. Assuming such a being ever existed—I have my doubts.”

Moonlight grabbed the medallion and left without another word.

#

“You’ve been calling the wrong deity, you pompous bastard,” Captain Moonlight said gleefully as she trotted up to the gathering.

Blueblood rolled his eyes. “We were collecting important information!” he replied, slapping the practically useless “map” to the Lost Caverns that he had been given.

She just laughed, oddly jovial, considering her normally dour mood. “We must call upon the goddess of the sun, and all ponies,” she instructed the crowd. “She is the key to all this, Blueblood. I’m frankly stunned that you didn’t already know that.”

Blueblood burst into a belly laugh, slapping the top of the ornate box beside him so hard that the metallic objects within could be heard to jangle. “Oh, you really need to work on your timing, good Sir Captain. But if it will make you feel any better: Celestia, Mistress of the Sun and Rightful Princess of Equestria, hear our glorious prayer, swoop down from the heavens, and save all of us naughty ponies!” He finished his speech with hoof outstretched towards the sun, and waited in that position, then he made to put that hoof to one ear. “What’s that? You can’t do it alone? You’d like us to help you save Equestria? Well, if you insist…”

Moonlight’s hoof struck him in the jaw with considerable force, knocking him straight to the ground.

“Don’t. You. Dare to speak Her name as a joke,” she hissed. “We’re done here. You’re only going to waste our time, tricking and leading us along with half information, I don’t give a damn if you are the prince, you’ve shown that you don’t care one bit for any pony but yourself. You’re no prince in my eyes, and if I must lose my position to say it aloud, I shall. Go plough yourself, Blueblood.”

Then she turned, and commanded her contingent to head on to the next town.

“I’m no prince in anypony’s eyes,” Blueblood muttered darkly to himself. “Farewell, Captain!” He called to the retreating ponies. “Have fun finding a way back through the Everfree!” He turned to the dragons. “Now I, on the other hoof, am mounting a rescue operation for Hope Springs, Lady Sparkle, and the rest of her party.”

“For what reason?” asked Hanreilt. “We need only wait, and ‘Hope’ will return to us.”

“Probably,” said Blueblood, rising to his hooves and rubbing his jaw. “Quite probably. Except for the fact that the gods are hiding in these ‘lost caverns’.”

“You guess,” said the commander contemptuously.

“It sounds to me like these ponies in the caverns might be what we are looking for, if only because they are trying to save the world,” a yellow-brown dragon said from within the ranks of the dragon accompaniment.

Blueblood gestured encouragingly at the speaker. “See?”

#

The tiny Sparkle regiment was walking past the stable, when Sparkling Helm spotted a small red dragon in the room with Sorrel and Copper Plate. Copper was pronking around the dragon, crying out, “Best plot twist ever!”, while Sorrel looked like he could have been knocked over with a feather.

“This...this changes everything!” he finally cried. “We have to help the Princess!”

The captain almost continued on without bothering to look into the discussion, but the word “Princess” stopped her, and she nodded toward her brother, who hopped down and guided the soldiers toward a nearby park to set up a temporary post, while Moonlight moved closer to the dragon.

“I have had enough of the lies spread by the Prince and his chameleon servant,” the dragon said, leading the others outside. “We need to join Princess Cel—oh, good day, dame captain,” she said, catching sight of Moonlight Sparkle.

“You say Her name with reverence,” the Captain said earnestly. “That is a rare thing, it seems. How are you hoping to help the Princess?”

Dame Kameneva stood up straight. “I speak her name in the Spirit of Friendship, as she taught me...before she lost her way. But, if these ponies speak true, she has found herself once again, and once again I pray it will be my honor to stand and fight at her side against the forces of evil!”

A rare smile took to the Captain’s face, and she removed her helmet, offering a hoof. “I am Captain Moonlight Sparkle, and I hope for the same honor. My soldiers and I cannot return home, but...perhaps you have some use for us?”

Chapter 34: Let It Go

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 34: Let It Go

Hope Springs stood in the immense cavern, trying to stare down its other inhabitant.

“...so under the circumstances, I don’t see any reason why we should do anything for them.”

“Under normal circumstances, I’d completely agree,” said Hope Springs in reply. “But these are far from normal circumstances. You see...could you hold on for a moment?”

“For what? The two of us are completely alone here!”

The question was not immediately answered, as Celestia found herself once again in the Astral Plane. “So, is it that time already?” she asked Midnight Sparkle brightly.

“It is. How are you doing, Celestia?” The purple pony asked in return, sitting down and taking up an air of peaceful relaxation.

“Oh, the usual sorts of things for a goddess,” Celestia said with a casual flick of one hoof. “Scheming and plotting behind everypony’s backs. For good, of course. I trust that the caverns are not treating your group too harshly?”

“We haven’t had too much trouble, avoided a lot of pain. Well, except for...you know what, you probably don’t want to hear this. Um...it’s going okay! No injuries worth reporting—”

“If you were hurt, Midnight, I would heal you,” Celestia said, with genuine warmth in her voice. “Your well-being is very important to me.”

“Well...I wouldn’t want you to use up your resources for a few scratches,” Sparkle said nervously.

“It is nothing to me, in my current state.” She rested her hoof briefly upon Midnight Sparkle’s brow below her horn. “You may feel nothing now, but you should be fully healed upon returning to your body.”

She bowed a bit, before standing again. “And now I’d like to ask you a few questions before we continue. Firstly, What do you know of the goddess that brought the breezies to this world? Eggswife?”

“A pony of extraordinary powers, but no goddess. That is what I am supposed to say, yes?” There was quite a mischievous glint in her eye as she said that last bit.

Midnight chuckled, looking in “Cutbelt’s” direction. “I think you are quite on script,” she said. “Do you know anything about the creatures or dangers we will be facing ahead?”

“I know about all of them,” Celestia said confidently. “So let’s speak in generalities. Eggswife recruited most of the creatures guarding her treasures from Tartarus. Very much against their wills. The two instruments of her control were the mind-control circlets, and the shape-changing bands. By one means or the other, she has forced most every creature there to do her bidding, even now long after her death. Of course, some of them have deluded themselves into thinking that they are snacking on wandering adventurers out of choice, as a poor salve to their egos.”

“That’s...a sad existence,” Midnight admitted somberly. “Is there...a way to get past them without killing them? Or even return them to where they should be?”

“Well, I would like to hope that you are capable of that. I know that my ponies are capable of that. The center of the lower level is closed to me...the result of extremely powerful magics and trans-dimensional warping. It’s also where the most powerful of the adventurers went into, never to return. Logically, a portal back to Tartarus must be within. Opening such a portal is extremely taxing, so for those ponies mad enough to want one, the standard procedure is to open the one, then close and re-open it as needed. In this case, I know no other location from which Eggswife could have brought such creatures to Equestria. If you tell them this, perhaps they will be willing to accompany rather than fight you.”

“Your ponies?” Midnight asked, raising an eyebrow. “Which ponies are your ponies?”

Celestia shrugged. “Sorry, force of habit. When I was a princess, they were all my ponies. And now you are my little adventurer.”

She chuckled. “Well. That’s good. So, we need to get around them to find the portal. I know that I normally wouldn’t have very strong spells, but...could you give me more powerful spells? Like...invisibility?”

Celestia nodded. “Assuming the rules allow it, that one would be permissible.”

“Good,” Midnight said after the necessary spells had been bestowed. “That should be enough to get around some of them. Maybe not all. I want to thank you for helping us so much, Celestia. I think I have to get back to our adventure though, so the last thing would be our instructions. Where do we go from here?”

“Alright, let’s see…” Celestia gestured downwards, at large maps of both the upper and lower levels that had appeared before them.

Far in the distance, one could just make out the sound of a palm hitting a forehead.

“Here is the river path you should take,” Celestia said, pointing out the route on the upper level map. “Stop here and get off, follow this path, turning west at the junction. Here is where the three-headed monster waits: lion, dragon and gorgon. After you defeat it, take either of the eastern paths to a stairway blocked by debris.” She then turned to the map of the lower level, pointing at a large blank space in the middle. “This is the part that I can’t see. The bottom of the stairs from the upper level exits just a short distance from its edge. Right here, lying in wait, is a tribe of reptile creatures. Not...like the ones in the Everfree.” One could write a novel based on what went across her face just then. “These are much more foul-tempered. Also, they smell. As in, a stench so foul as to cause fainting in the unprepared. They have a champion. He smells the worst, and the others get their courage from him. If you can knock him out, the others will flee. I can do no more to help you once you enter this hexagonal area. In fact, you may not even be able to call me once you go in, so be sure you are ready before you proceed.”

Midnight looked over the pair of maps before sighing. “That sounds like a really bad thing. But we will do our best. Do you have any requests for me to carry out?”

Celestia looked her intently in the eyes. “Live,” she said. “And do not worry overmuch. I am currently arranging for help to come your way. Assuming that she can see past her recent indignities…” The last part was not entirely meant for Midnight’s ears.

“That is wonderful news. In reply, I would like to ask something of you. I want to know if Hope is safe. Also, if she has been able to accomplish her goal.”

“Hope is the safest one of you right now,” Celestia replied. “And who else do you think is busy negotiating that help I promised? You know I can’t walk freely on the face of Equestria. Only my name is free at present.”

“I hope you are truly free, soon. Goodbye, Celestia.”

Celestia looked at the spot where Midnight was a moment before. “I think not,” she said to herself. “Freeing me will end your precious game.”

#

Hope sighed as she returned to herself and looked up into the pair of large reptilian eyes. “I’d tell you what just happened, but without proof, there’s no way you could possibly believe me.”

Midnight returned to her own body. Around her, the other members of her party were all asleep, except for Burnished Lore.

“Goddess or no goddess,” he said when he saw that she was awake. “I’m still going to keep watch!”

“I don’t blame you. Has there been anything unusual while I was gone?”

“Nope, just the sound of the water making you want to use the facilities every half hour,” cracked the pegasus sorcerer.

“How long was I out? Those meditation sessions are so unreliable.” Midnight walked a slow and quiet circle around the group, whispering a heartfelt prayer to Celestia to keep them safe and healthy in the journey ahead.

“They’ve been instantaneous,” Burnished growled. “Every one of them, which is distinctly against the rules when spells above First Level are being granted.”

Actually, Second Edition allows some flexibility about that. The voice was Carry On’s...technically. And of course in-game they didn’t actually hear that.

“Well, how would you know about such things? The spells that she gives me are a direct communication. Buuut, yes I now have invisibility as my twice-a-day, that could definitely help.”

“You replaced the spells you cast today, didn’t you? Those certainly included Second Level spells. But never mind about that.” He kicked at Carry On’s knapsack. “Hey, Thief! Looks like you’ve got a short-term apprentice. Anything you’d like a periodically invisible pony to do for you?”

Carry smirked, opening an eye and looking to the other two. “I can do everything that I need without a spell. But how about you give me a bit of invisibility so that I can stab a few things viciously and fatally in the back? Although...your peace-loving goddess might not be okay with that.”

“You’re right!” Midnight turned to frown at the thief, who had sat up. “She’s caring. She, and I, would rather neutralize these creatures, since they are being forced to do this against their will.”

Carry waved a hoof dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Fine. Then give me the spell and I can speed past them. You’d be surprised how fast I can go with the proper motivation.”

“Against their will…” Burnished said, rubbing his chin with one hoof.

In the Hoofington Catacombs, a pool of lava had almost completely surrounded Griffon's Party of Invincible Adventurers.

“This is all your fault, Griffon!” growled Vaya Con Dios.

“Aw, this isn’t so bad,” the black-and-white griffon said, easily flying to safety.

That’s when the fire elemental’s hand emerged from the lava to grab him.

“Now that’s not fair!”

The party of six young adventurers, and the friends they picked up along the way, camped out on the corpse of the gigantic snapping turtle that had been sleeping at the bottom of the underground lake, a hand-drawn map spread out between then. All of them were sitting cross-legged—which means something rather different for ponies than for humans.

“So,” Chestnut asked the others. “Where now?”

“Oh! You know what we could do, is harvest the organs of this creature to use in spells! Spell components for draconic transformations...”

A hoof was shoved into Ameri’s mouth, and the dragon-obsessed mage was forced to go along with the rest of the group.

The next morning, Midnight found Burnished carefully examining the sail which had been discovered the night before. “Well, it’s not any kind of animal,” he muttered to himself, tracing the shape of one of the runes with a hoof. He looked up at the ceiling. “OK, how about a folklore check? Anything familiar from that? No?”

“No religion check...what about...could any of you do an arcane check?” Midnight looked around. Carry just shrugged.

“What, you mean Celestia didn’t tell you already?” Torn Deck asked sarcastically.

“No, she’s helpful and kind, like a goddess should be!” Midnight stopped and took a step back. “Heh...sorry a bit too enthusiastic there.”

“Super into-character, huh?” Carry asked rhetorically. “Let’s see...what if it’s not a check at all, but rather a magic item. I have a decent check for using those, I try to use it as a generic magic item, like a ring?”

“Alright, everypony in the boat!” Burnished ordered.

“Hey!” Torn Deck protested. “Since when are you in charge?”

“When it comes to magic, I’m always in charge,” Burnished Lore replied coolly. “OK, I’m going to put the mast into position. Hold on!”

Nothing happened.

He raised the sail. A distant nautical tune could be heard for a moment, a toothless laugh, then...nothing.

“Enough of that!” Burnished chided the boat. “You get moving now. Go!”

The boat suddenly sped forward, everypony holding on for dear life.

“Stop!” commanded Burnished.

The boat came to a dead halt.

“Oh that’s just too easy!” Torn Deck whined.

“Hey, I’m not complaining. We need every break we can get. Now then—the little waterfall over there, right?” He reached back to grab the oar that was being used for steering. “Go!”

“Haha! This is good, this is all good,” Sparkle said happily, settling in for the ride.

#

The boat steadily approached a stone ledge that separated the pool from the stream.

“Everypony hold on!” cried Torn Deck, who was perched at the stern of the boat.

Midnight Sparkle grabbed hold of the back of the boat, while Carry On held the side, her wings prepared to steady herself. The others braced themselves similarly.

The boat then fell the width of three hooves. Thanks to the bracing, it didn’t tip over. After that, the current pulled it around a sharp angle, so it was now going in a northwesterly direction.

“That wasn’t so bad!” Carry said happily, as Sparkle tried not to fall over with the normal rocking action of the boat.

The walls around them were noticeably smoother than they had been in earlier parts of their passage. They were also going roughly twice as fast as before. A distant roaring began to gain in volume.

“I’m going to go find that bridge,” said Bumble. “You better be ready with that stop business.”

The boat stopped, the current flowing rapidly around it.

“Don’t say that word!” Burnished scolded.

Bumble laughed and flew off into the gloom.

“Go!” Burnished ordered in an annoyed voice, getting the boat moving again with a jerk.

Carry giggled, and put a hoof around Sparkle. “Don’t throw up! We don’t want to waste a use of Summon Food just because you can’t keep it down!”

Bumble came back a few minutes later. “Oh, this will be easy,” he told them. “Just get a pegasus down there with a rope loop.” He then looked down at this transformation band. “Heh. Never mind. I’ll take off when we’re close enough. A little room!” He landed next to Sparkle and twisted the silver band around his leg, changing form with a flash. He then quickly picked up the loose end of the rope, wrapped it around his midsection several times, and fashioned the end...into…into...

“Blast! How can you do anything with rope with these ginormous hooves?” he asked, holding the end up rather helplessly.

“Here, let me,” said Burnished, who took up the rope end and fashioned a lasso using only his wingfeathers.

“I’ve got to learn how to do that!” Bumble-pegasus said in awe, before picking up the lasso in his mouth and launching into the air.

The boat rocked dangerously below him.

“Sowwy!” he apologized around a mouthful of rope. “Non’t know ma own stength.”

“Well go along then,” Torn Deck said nervously, the sound of the approaching falls growing ever closer. “Hurry up and get that tied!”

Bumble rolled his eyes and flew off.

“Oh, crap!” Burnished yelled. “Somepony tie the other end of that rope!”

Sparkle grabbed hold of the end with her magic just long enough for Carry to land on it and tie it to the boat.

“Got it!”

The boat was allowed to drift for less than a minute, before their destination came into view. The ornately carved and sculptured bridge arched to about four pony-heights above the center of the river. Many strange forms and shapes could be made out on the side of the bridge in bold relief: carved gargoyle-like monsters, leering down at you. The one with its tongue sticking out looked to have a good reason for his expression—namely, the noose that was tied tight around his neck. Meanwhile, a thundering rumble, a loud, low-throated roar, filled everypony’s ears.

Burnished used his steering oar to direct the boat towards the northern shore of the river. “Stop!” he commanded, when the boat was right under the bridge. “Alright, everypony out,” he said. “And please, no saying that other word until we are out of earshot!”

Bumble was waiting for them at the top of the bridge, still in pegasus form, and waving wildly. “Welcome to dry land at last!” he cried.

Torn Deck was the first to jump ashore, scrambling up the slope to reach the northern end of the bridge. “A little help would be appreciated!” he said, his eyes fixed on the transformed breezie.

“Oh, right!” Bumble cried out, flying over. “I forgot that I’m weight-bearing now. Grab hold!”

With the help of the four pegasi, the whole group was soon standing on a path leading north and south.

Burnished looked fondly down at the boat. “I sure wish we could bring it with us,” he said. “What if there’s another river system on the lower level?”

“I don’t have the ability to shrink it,” Sparkle sighed, looking down.

“And I don’t want to risk anypony getting hurt trying to pull it up.”

“And if there were a river down there, that journal page would have said something,” said Torn Deck. “Let it go, Bernie. Let it—”

“STOP! STOP!” Burnished Lore quickly cried twice in quick succession, before the boat had snapped the rope and jumped the falls. He looked over at Torn Deck, who was failing mightily at stifling a belly laugh. “I’m not talking to you anymore,” he said, his nose in the air.

Carry On snickered and passed the two arguing ponies. “Are you sure you don’t want to let it...” and then she hopped away and down the passageway.

“NOPONY HAS ANY RESPECT FOR MAGIC ANYMORE!”

#

The path northwards immediately met a four-way junction, with paths going north, west, east, and back south.

“OK, which way, M’Lady?” Torn Deck asked Sparkle.

Sparkle looked around, before closing her eyes and thinking of the sun.

Hey Celestia? I forgot. Which way do I go now? She thought to herself.

There was the sound of a sweet mountain wind wending its way through her thoughts, which did not in any way resemble the sound of a frustrated goddess sighing her frustration with the inferior nature of her instrument.

Sorry…

“Falls. Northwest to bridge. North. West. Monster-rah! Stairs under rocks.”

Wait, northwest to bridge, then northwest?

“North to cross the bridge, as in not south. Then west at the junction to enter the lair of the three-headed beast.”

Oh excellent! Thank you, my most supreme light.

Sparkle opened her eyes and grinned.

“Okay! We are good to go...West!” She said firmly.

“Aw,” said a disappointed Facet. “The northern passage smells much better.”

Torn Deck walked over to fetch Facet, rolling his eyes along the way. Then he took a whiff. “Hmm! Orange blossoms. Smells like a trap. Let’s go.”

“Aww.”

The western passage soon turned north, and approached the entrance of a large cavern.

“Okay. In this cavern should be the creature Celestia told me about. It can turn us to stone with its breath, and is very powerful.”

Carry sighed. “So, just say it’s a gorgon. That’s what it is, after all.”

“A three-headed gorgon,” added Midnight helpfully.

Burnished raised a hoof, signaling them to stop speaking. He leaned his head and swiveled his ears. “You sure about that three-headed part?” he whispered.

Midnight nodded slowly, as Carry backed away silently.

“No snoring, and no talking,” whispered Burnished. “Something’s not right. Chimera heads always talk to each other. Assuming he isn’t just waiting on the other side of this wall to petrify/eat us.” The old pegasus turned, and started quietly going through his possessions.

Bumble took this opportunity to turn back into his breezie form.

Midnight Sparkle looked back to Carry, and cast a spell. Oddly to most of those watching, the spell didn’t have any light or sound attached, but Carry On vanished from sight, and the slightest breeze drifted over the adventurers’ backs as the pegasus silently flew over them and into the cavern, nearly at the ceiling.

This turned out to be quite a bit of work, as the cavern’s ceiling was unusually high. Thanks to mineral deposits, a rainbow of colors shimmered from walls and floor. Even the many stalactites above hung like colored icicles. More minerals had seeped into frozen curtains, cascades and numerous humps and stalagmites of varied hue and strange form. In the center of the chamber was a heap of coins and metal bars. Resting behind the pile, in a position where the average greed-filled adventurer would not think of looking before it was too late, was a creature resembling a chimera, but with the parts of a lion, a red dragon and a gorgon instead of the usual trio. The creature was standing absolutely still, the eyes of all three heads fixated upon the southern entrance—there were exits to the northeast and southeast, but no attention was spared for those. Atop each of the three heads was a thin golden circlet.

Back at the gaming table, Ellen had a clear recollection from nearly a year earlier of seeing a photograph of a cave that looked exactly like what Jojo had just described. She remembered that her sister had snatched the photo away, and had refused to answer any questions about where she had taken it, or why. Something had been crudely drawn onto the photograph with a black Sharpie—obviously, the monster their group was now facing.

Carry On circled slowly back in an even glide, before landing next to the group with a soft quartet of taps on the stone.

“It’s behind the treasure pile, mind controlled, circlets. Three circlets, I doubt I can get them all off,” she whispered so the group could hear. “If I take one off, it will likely fight itself to death.”

Midnight’s expression become one of horror, while the others seriously considered having Carry do so.

Burnished shook his head, producing a silver-colored circlet from his saddlebags. “I figured it was mind control from the lack of talking. If we can get one circlet off, and land this on one of the other heads, then our side might be able to win that battle, and the creature lives. So, which two heads should we aim for?” He looked over at Carry On.

“Dragon and Lion,” the empty spot in the air said. “Dragon with the silver circlet, lion with none.”

“...And hope the gorgon doesn’t turn us to stone before it’s defeated,” Torn Deck said, deadpan.

“I’m dropping these invisibly,” She reminded Torn, taking the circlet, and chuckling as it vanished from view. “And taking an item doesn’t cancel an invisibility spell unless that item is being wielded, according to the new rules.”

“Thank Celestia for rules lawyers,” Midnight said with a smirk.

“OK, good luck,” said Burnished. “Yell or something if you need us.”

“Otherwise, the experience’s all yours,” Torn grumbled.

“Oh, once you hear them make noise, start in. I might need help.”

Carry Took off with another small puff of air, and started off across the cavern in an arc to avoid the most alert head.

The beast continued staring dumbly at the entrance. The dragon head was elevated the most, so that was the one Carry On avoided.

The circlets on close examination didn’t look welded on the beasts, just resting on or around each head. For the gorgon head, there was the complication of the animal’s horns, which would have made it quite the chore to get the band off: slide it to one side, pull it up one horn, and then the other. Carry On had definitely made the right choice in not bothering with that head.

The red dragon head was flat on top, triangular when seen from above. There were a couple of spines, but they actually served to lift up the circlet a bit, which also rested against a couple of eye ridges. It made for a good target.

Finally, the lion head was fluffy from a full mane. The circlet wrapped inside the lion’s ears, which were both lifted into the air. The circlet rested atop the fluff.

Ever so carefully, Carry descended, until she hovered just over the dragon’s head, reaching out to slip the circlet up, and replace it gently with the silver one, before turning to head full speed for the lion, in the hopes that she could tear that one off before the dragon started reacting.

The dragon’s eyes started darting around suspiciously when the golden circlet was removed. Gaining the silver circlet caused the torso of the creature, the part derived from a dragon, to buck wildly. “Betrayed!” the head screamed out in draconic, a language that Carry On, Bumble, and Itty Bitty all knew. Burnished of course knew it—he knew all languages, after all—it was sort of his special talent. “Eggswife has betrayed me!”

The chaos caused by those wildly flapping wings made it impossible for Carry On to get in close.

Meanwhile, the other two heads were attempting to attack the dragon head. Of course, the gorgon head knew better than to try to petrify itself, and apparently its mind control had not included programming to “self-destruct” if something like this happened to it. The dragon head also possessed one significant advantage: unlike a lion or stone bull, a dragon actually had a neck. It used this to elevate itself, and to make swooping attacks on the rings on the other two heads.

Carry had to resist the urge to use this chance to do some damage, but rather waited for an opening to take the Lion’s circlet off, but it turned out she didn’t have to wait long, as the dragon succeeded in striking the lion head on the first blow, sending the golden band flying. This caused that particular head to stop fighting. However, it did nothing to assist the dragon head in fighting the gorgon head.

The gorgon head then tried to bite the dragon head, and missed, because dragon necks are just that awesome.

Carry, knowing an even fight when she saw one, turned and flew back toward the group, willing the magic to fall away so she could wave her companions down before they got to the creature. “Gorgon’s left! Dragon’s good! Plan first!” She barked out in quick gasps as she neared them and landed.

Burnished looked at Bumble. “I heard a mind-control circlet hit the ground. If you can get it for me, I can cast the spell to reverse its function, and then somepony gets to try and drop it on the gorgon’s head. Does that sound alright?”

Bumble winced. “They’re fighting each other, right? And the band’s far away, right?”

“Need invisibility? I’ve only got it once more. And we don’t need to get the one that dropped,” Midnight said, looking to Bumble as she took the circlet that Carry had grabbed and hoofed it off to Burnished. “That way we can get all three.”

Burnished immediately cast his custom spell upon the circlet he had been hoofed, causing it to slowly turn in color from gold to silver. “Carry, do you think you can come up with any rule as to the difference in behavior between no circlet and wearing an anti-MC circlet?”

A guttural cry was heard from the cave.

“Obey,” said Facet. “That was ‘obey’ in Hill Giant.”

“I...the lion without the band hasn’t bothered to attack. It might be...I hope that wasn’t it...” Carry groaned.

“Is Hill Giant the same language that Gorgons speak?” Midnight asked frantically.

“Gorgons are normally too stupid to speak,” said Burnished as he finished the spell. “But they are known to be owned as pets by hill giants. Perhaps the chimeric variety are smarter than average. So, no circlet means no action? Still better than attacking. I’m hoping that having both circlets on at the same time is the same as having no circlet, because I tried to work through the logistics, and I have no idea how to easily take a circlet off of a gorgon head.”

“I’ll go back in,” Carry said, standing again from where she had slumped. “I’ll put it on the gorgon. If the dragon is smart, and I sure hope it is, it might even figure out what I’m trying and help.”

“Thank you, Carry. Let’s do this.”

Sparkle cast the invisibility spell upon the thief, and then started walking slowly off toward the battle with the others as the pegasus flew ahead, silver band in hoof.

Inside the cave, the internecine battle had not ceased, and both the dragon and gorgon heads looked pretty battered. The lion head seemed to have a blank expression upon it.

The gorgon head was preparing for another attack, when its eyes locked on the slight shimmer of Carry On’s invisibility. The hind legs of the creature scrabbled against the stone, pushing the monster forward against the unresponding lion forequarters. The gorgon head opened its mouth, and a green gas enveloped the panicking pegasus.

Midnight screamed, hoof held out as she watched the invisible pegasus appear, patch by stony patch from the fog.

“NO!”

Midnight’s horn lit up like a purple beacon in the gloomy cave, the crystal ceiling and walls refracting it into a million hues of dusk as she grabbed the stone pegasus. Her invisibility flickered out, revealing the intense strain upon her face. Under the support of her magic, the falling pony slowed, but did not stop. A second later, Facet blindly poured her magic into Midnight—she couldn’t see well enough under the circumstances to take up the weight individually, so this was all she could do. With this contribution, the light got even brighter, like a star being born into the cave. Carry On came to rest on the stone floor, and Midnight crumpled forward into an unconscious heap, every bit of power spent, horn smoking with curling wisps of black char. Facet, coming into the spell late, was merely winded, but there was a good chance that she had just saved Midnight’s horn from shattering under the magical pressure.

Bumble raced forward, his eyes fixed on only one thing: the silver ring clutched in Carry On’s hock. He tugged on it gingerly, and was relieved to see it come free into his hooves, without causing any significant damage to the statue. He flew straight over the creature and hovered in place.

The dragon’s left wing settled over the gorgon’s head, preventing it from seeing to make another breath attack.

The others arrived in the room, but there was little that they could do to affect the battle at this point.

Bumble looked down desperately from his spot above the bucking creature. With the wing over the gorgon’s head, he had no chance...unless… “Break mind control!” Bumble screamed in draconic, as he dropped the ring onto the dragon head, leaving it with two.

The gorgon head snapped at the dragon wing within reach, forcing the dragon to withdraw it. The pointed tip of the wing then bent delicately back, and lifted the top anti-mind control ring into its sight. The ring was then slammed down onto the lion’s head.

With a roar, the lion parts of the monster came back to life.

“Help me!” the dragon head pleaded in Equine to his fellow head.

With a nod, the lion head joined the dragon one in staring at the gorgon head.

The gorgon bellowed in rage, attempting to attack both heads in turn. But its attacks quickly faded under the unrelenting stares of the other two. And then the dragon’s wing lifted the other anti-mind control ring from its head, and planted it upon the gorgon’s head.

The creature reeled for a moment, and then a trio of voices bellowed out in victorious Equine: “We are free!”

“Not all of us,” Bumble muttered as he fluttered down to the ground beside the stone pegasus and unconscious unicorn.

Chapter 35: Magical Hydraulics

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 37: Celestia the Cheating Cheater Cheats Some More

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 37: Celestia the Cheating Cheater Cheats Some More

Celestia and Firebelle were standing at the bottom of the narrow stairway that led from the surface entrance of the Lost Caverns of Soap Candy—the one that didn’t bypass two-thirds of the first level. Celestia was disguised as the earth pony Hope Springs. And Firebelle was disguised as her former self. Atop her head was a silver circlet.

“I don’t suppose we’ll run into the jerk who did this to me,” Firebelle grumbled.

“I thought you said you preferred being a dragon,” said Celestia as she carefully looked around her. A lantern was balanced on her back.

“Well, yes...but it’s the principle of the thing!” Firebelle owned her current appearance of being a pegasus to the transformation legband Celestia had given her, but in many respects she was still the dragon that Brian had turned her into: her eyes were that of her dragon self, and she held herself like a dragon, with rear legs splayed and bent while her forelegs were held close and straight, giving her a sloped instead of a horizontal back. “My player’s first action, his first action on gaining control of me, was to scheme to trade my body in for a better one! Adventuring is supposed to be a noble calling! Righting the odds through magic and violence!”

“That’s not what I stand for,” Celestia muttered.

“Yeah, well I didn’t know who you were, then. So where next?”

“Follow me.” She proceeded north into a large natural chamber with six exits. Beside each exit was a face carved into the stone in bas-relief.

Celestia didn’t bother with any of the other exits, heading straight for a narrow tunnel heading northeast. The doggish-looking pony face opened its mouth to speak as she approached. “Turn back...this is not the way!” it said in a bass tone.

“I know,” she said casually as she continued onwards.

“Turn back...this is not the way!” the face mechanically repeated.

“Oh wait, that’s right.” She peered into the mouth of the stone face, to see a large, deep red stone resting within. “May I have that gem of yours?”

“Turn back...this is not the way!”

“Hmm...May I please have the stone?”

“Turn back...this is not the way!”

“Kinda stubborn, isn’t he?” Firebelle asked with a mocking grin. “Are you going to reach your hoof in there?”

“With those fangs? I think not. No, this is a case of rather simple programming,” Celestia said, walking around to view the head from different angles. “Hmm...stick out your tongue.”

The statue promptly responded to the request, producing a broad stone tongue with the large gem balanced upon it.

“Thank you!” she said, plucking it with her mouth and dropping it into her saddlebag. Without another word, she proceeded into the northeast passage.

“Turn back...this is not the way!” the head said, resuming its standard message.

“You can wait there,” Celestia instructed Firebelle. “Although you might want to watch out for the giant mosquitos.”

“Giant…” Firebelle said nervously, as a swarm of the creatures attracted by the stone head’s loud words surrounded her. She looked around her, seeing how big the chamber was. With a toothy smile, she rotated her legband and turned back into a black dragon.

The giant bugs all broke their beaks on her scaly hide. “I love being a dragon!” she proclaimed to nopony in particular. As the light from Celestia’s lantern faded, her glowing eyes soon came to be the only source of illumination.

#

Celestia walked quietly into a small grotto, the walls of which were carved and chiseled into a running series of forms and figures that extended from the floor to an arched ceiling. The work was bas-relief, but far superior in quality to the crude stone faces in the chamber outside. Celestia looked with the eye of an art connoisseur at the forms depicted in the stone: she recognized fungi, blind fish, and insects common to the underdark. And then there were the monsters, several of which Celestia knew she would be soon facing…

Celestia’s hoof brushed against something. Looking down, she spied some stone chips scattered across the floor. They were widely scattered near her, but their concentration increased the closer they got to a worked shaft. The shaft was one and a half pony-heights high—stooping height if Celestia were in her true form right now—and equally confining in the horizontal direction. It was running northwest from the far end of the grotto.

“Hello!” she cried out. “Are you there?” She began to advance towards the faint sound of metal on stone. “Don’t worry, I will not hurt you. I need your help, and I would like to be your friend. Is there anything, perhaps, that I can do for you?”

“Aye,” answered a voice from the shaft. “You could do us a favor.”

“Name it!”

“How about you...douse that cursed light, stupid!”

“Oh!” Celestia exclaimed, turning around to rotate a light-proof shield around her lantern’s light. “How’s that?”

“...Better,” said the voice.

Celestia stood patiently as she heard seven hooved creatures approach and surround her.

“We are the pech!” one of the beings told her.

“We work the earth!” said another.

“And we are stunningly handsome. It’s a good thing you put out that light, or our manly studliness would probably kill an ordinary mare like you!”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Celestia said with a smile.

“Yes, well...now that we have that sorted, oddly compliant pony, what are you going to give us?” One of the shapes approached, speaking in a nasally high pitch, clearly the leader of this small group.

“Well let’s see...I’ve got one of these…” She fumbled a bit in her saddlebags, to pull out the garnet she had obtained from the stone face. “Will this do?”

“Let me see that!”

The Pech grabbed hold of the gem and by the humming and “ooh...” he seemed to like what he saw. “Yes-yes, so... What do you need done? I imagine that you have much need if you would search for the great and wise pech.”

“I’ve heard you are good with stone—”

“We are the best!” another of the pech interjected.

“That you can do the impossible. Even...reverse petrification?”

With a great laugh, a slight glow came to the hooves of the leader Pech, revealing a spindly thin-limbed equine creature, with massive white eyes that covered so much of its head that only a sharp tiny nose and a puckered mouth could be seen besides them.

“You’ve come to Gulrikkc. Of all pech, I am sure that I can do what you ask.”

“Excellent!” Celestia said with a beaming smile. “My now-solid friend is at the other end of the caverns. I...I have no right to ask you to accompany us, so my other friend and I will retrieve the statue, and return here. Is that alright with you?”

The glow dimmed a little, and Gulrikkc’s expression soured. “I do not like to wait,” he said. “If you will keep me safe to the place, then I will go with you to the place. This will be good. More time after for examining the gem.”

“Oh, alright,” Celestia replied with a happily surprised grin. “And don’t worry about safety—I’m pretty sure I have that covered. I’ll try to keep my lamp low, but I guess that means you’ll have to be our eyes. Is there anything you need to collect before we begin?”

He hefted an unusually large and sharp pick, and nodded firmly. “I am ready.”

“Then follow me.”

#

Celestia and Gulrikkc turned a corner, to face a bored black dragon.

“It’s alright!” Celestia said quickly. “She’s with me.”

“Black scaled, means no fire. I am not afraid of an acid spitter,” Gulrikkc sneered.

“You seem to be making all sorts of unusual friends today,” the dragon said. She reached down and turned a band around her foreleg.

Celestia tried to reach up to cover the pech’s sensitive eyes, but was too late. One blinding flash later, a pink pegasus stood where the dragon once was.

The pech cursed, eyes closed and forelegs up to shield himself. “No light! Cursed light, and burning flashes. Celestia damn you!”

Firebelle looked between Gulrikkc and Celestia. “Alright, I consider myself duly rebuked. It’s nice to see that even down here you know about Celestia.” The identical voice made it clear that the dragon and the pony were one and the same being.

“The accursed sun-bringer is well known to our people, hidden scaled one,” he barked, blinking repeatedly to try and clear his vision. “She is the reason our kind is hurt by the light. But...she gives the brightness to our jewels. A cursed light. Take me to your stone one!”

“Al...alright,” an abashed Celestia said. I really should bring my sister down here...if I ever get her back, she thought to herself. “This way.” She walked up to another passageway, this one parallel to the entrance passage.

“Turn back...this is not the way!” the guardian head spoke. This one looked like the result of a fight between a pony and a walrus.

Celestia tossed her head. “Liar,” she said, walking into the passage.

“Wait!” Gulrikkc looked up at the stone head with a greedy smile, before slamming his pick into its forehead, splitting it open so that a dark pink gem tumbled out. “Good. Now I am paid twice!”

#

The passage made a sharp left turn, so it was now running eastwards. As soon as they made that turn, they picked up a strong, nearly-choking stench.

“What is that?” Firebelle asked curiously. Despite being pony-shaped, she had the reduced sense of smell of a dragon, and so the odor didn’t particularly bother her.

Gulrikkc, who barely had a nose, just shrugged.

“This is where a couble of thousand carnivorous bats live,” Celestia said, a hoof clamped firmly over her nostrils.

Firebelle looked down at the “peat” she had been wading through. “Ew.”

“Shush. They are sleeping. No light, no talk. Shush.” The pech guided the other two silently through the stench-filled passage, onwards for nearly half an hour, before a gradual curve brought them around to be walking north. Above them, sleeping bats covered the ceiling, and could be detected by their occasional cries as they slept.

Celestia wondered for a moment what carnivorous bats dreamed about. Unfortunately, her imagination dutifully provided an answer.

They walked north, in the dark, for an additional half hour. Both the pech and the transformed dragon seemed in high spirits, looking around at the natural rock formations. Celestia, on the other hoof, was completely blind.

Finally, Firebelle tapped Celestia on her left side. Celestia stopped. “This way,” she whispered, turning towards an opening in the west wall of the passage that had a faintly flickering blue-green glow.

The trio emerged onto a stone shelf overlooking an underground lake. There were faint phosphorescent fungi on the ceiling that provided a comfortable level of light for the non-ponies, in addition to the occasional flashes given off by pale white fish as they breached the surface. Much of what Celestia saw was reproduced in the stonework in the pech cave.

“Ah,” said Gulrikkc in wonder. “It has been long. Long time. The cave of stars. The fish, do not touch the water, they bite,” he said simply, before gesturing to a thin ledge that they could walk along, if only wide enough for a single pony or pech to cross carefully.

“Scaled one, you may fly, yes? No need for stompy heavy weight on the path.”

“Yes...well, I think so.” She stretched out and flapped her wings, one whole, the other withered, and easily rose into the air, great gusts of wind driven into every direction, far more wind than could possibly be generated by pegasus wings flapped that slowly. “I love this!” she exclaimed.

“Good,” said Celestia with a grin. “Now do you see that small waterfall over there?”

“Yes?”

“I need you to fly down the river in that direction. When you see the bridge…”

#

Celestia sat on the edge of the ledge, a pair of hooves waving just above the water. It was getting close on an hour since Firebelle had left.

The pech looked at her. “You have a dragon friend. She is not the angry hurting type, why is that? Do you keep her mind yours?” he asked curiously.

Celestia pulled a silver ring out of her saddlebags. “She’s wearing one of these. It clears her mind. I do not control her, for she is my friend.”

He chuckled, holding out a tiny hoof to take the ring.

Celestia passed it over. “I expect we’ll need that before we’re done. Several of the creatures here are bound against their will.”

He put it on his head and chuckled. “Smart magic. Bound in metal...so many layers... This is a special special ring.” He gave it back with a huff. “Would be better if made of stone.”

“I don’t doubt it,” Celestia said with a laugh.

#

A large wooden boat sailed into view. It stopped momentarily at the three-hoof high waterfall, and then sailed up it to enter the lake. At the back of the boat could be seen Firebelle, who was turning an oar in the water to steer it. She nearly fell out when the boat defied gravity, but was able to catch herself in time.

“Ah, there we go,” Celestia said, rising to her hooves. “Our ride has arrived.”

The boat sailed against the current, and despite not a single breeze in the air, until it beached upon the ledge.

“Stop!” declared the pegasus, and the boat did just that.

“A magic boat, for a magic dungeon, for a magic dragon. We go on the magic boat?”

“Yes,” Celestia said with a teary smile. “Rather like a fairy tale, don’t you think? We need a little more of that in this world. No, we need a lot more of that, and I’m going to bring it.” She set hoof gently into the boat, then turned and held out a hoof for Gulrikkc. “Just a little bit further,” she said to the apprehensive pech.

He sighed and let her pull him up, before settling in at the center of the boat.

“You have so much spirit, for living in such a dark world, gold pony.”

“Not for much longer,” she said with a gentle smile. “My friends and I shall clean out these caverns, and you can do what you will with them.” She looked sternly up at the cave ceiling, and beyond that to the constellations that housed the current gods of Equestria. “And after that, the sun is coming out once more.”

“Go!” cried Firebelle impishly. The boat shot forward across the ledge and back into the water, and Celestia nearly fell off. “The look on your face!”

“No court position for you!” said Celestia, laughing.

“I should hope not—I’m allergic to dramatic speeches! Now hold on for this drop…”

#

A couple of flights later, the same lasso as before had been re-applied, and the boat was anchored below Gargoyle Bridge.

Celestia led the others up the slope to the path, avoiding the northern and eastern passages when they reached a crossroads.

“How did your stone friend get here? So many twists and turns... Is she a crazy pony?” Gilrikkc asked, scornfully, as he squinted to drown out the light refracting in the tunnels.

“She was part of a group dedicated to destroying the evil at the heart of these caverns,” Celestia explained as she led them westwards. “I broke off from them to save Firebelle here. They faced off against a most unique monster in this room and...befriended it after removing its curse. But before they accomplished this goal...that happened.” She gestured towards the stone statue of a shocked pegasus tilted to one side, wings outstretched and legs tucked inward. “Oh!” she exclaimed, racing over. “She was flying! I wasn’t told that. It’s a miracle that she’s still intact.”

Gilrikkc held out a hoof to hold the pony back, as he stalked around the stone pegasus, before sighing, leaning in to smell her tone curled mane. “It is a shame I must change her...she’s so beautiful like this. She was surrounded by a great amount of magic just after stone. No spell! Surprise, she was surrounded with only magic, magic energy with no order. Such power...” He ran a withered hoof over her wings, and smiled wistfully. “Stone does not fly so well, she knows now I think. She will be angry when awake. At many things. I can feel her shaking. Angry...fear? No...anger. I will help you, stone pony...”

The glow in his hooves increased, and began to stick to the spots where he touched her, his massive pupilless eyes flicking back and forth while the glow caused tiny cracks across her body, and her eyes wept tears, as they faded back to her natural color. Once her eyes and her wings were returned to their natural state, the rest of her stone skin shattered, and the pech stepped away.

Celestia quickly stepped forward, and put a leg over Carry On’s withers. “It’s alright, it’s alright,” she said soothingly. For a moment, she considered putting her anti-mind control ring on the adventurer’s head, to get back her friend Winter Harvest. But she decided that this wasn’t fair to the adventurer who had tried so hard to protect the others. Winter Harvest would be free, but not yet.

Luke was sitting back in his chair, watching the other players do their thing and awaiting an opportunity to play another character, when his eyes suddenly went wide. “She’s gone…” he whispered. “Cutbelt!” he said to Mary Jo.

She turned to him curiously, and somewhat apprehensively as well. “Yes?”

He looked at her expectantly.

She looked back in confusion. Then she blinked a few times in rapid succession. “Oh!” she cried. “Back at the gorgimera’s lair, Carry On suddenly returns to awareness.”

“Yay Carry!” Ellen cheered. “Great, but we don’t know that, right?”

“Right, this is a private scene with Luke,” said M.J. “But I’ve got to play to the crowd sometime, right?”

“So what happened?” asked Laura Curtis from the stands.

“Hope Springs went into the caverns using the correct entrance, found the magical stone-shaping creatures that are available to hire for precisely this scenario, and took the little guy out to de-stone Carry On here. I figured you had enough of my NPC antics that you didn’t need to hear that in detail.”

The audience cried out their protest. “Hope Springs is best adventurer!” one of them declared.

“Yeah, well tough, I’m not rewinding,” said Mary Jo with a smirk. “Carry On, as far as you’re concerned, you were about to put the anti-mind control band on the gorgon head, when suddenly it breathed smoke on you, everything went crazy, and now you’re somehow on the ground, with no monster in sight, and no band in your hooves. A pony is embracing you. What do you do?”

Luke shrugged. “I continue screaming, because I was frozen right about to scream.”

“The pony, who is quite strong, is holding you still. ‘It’s alright, it’s alright,’ she repeats, over and over. You realize that it’s Hope Springs. In the corner of your eye you see a strange spindly pony walking away. ‘Stone pony is gone, and so am I,’ he declares mysteriously before leaving. ‘You can have the boat!’ Hope tells him.”

“Got you, I stop screaming. ‘Hope! Thank goodness! What happened, was I petrified?’”

“‘Yes,’ she says. ‘And we arranged to get you back to normal. This here is Firebelle.’ She gestures towards a pink pegasus mare that is holding herself very oddly. The pegasus sort of slithers forward and peers into your eyes with its own, which somewhat resembles those of a cat. ‘Are you in there?’ she asks, her temper barely controlled. ‘B...B...argh, I almost have the name.’ Hope pulls the strange pony back. ‘It’s not him,’ she insists.”

Susan watched this entire performance with eyebrow in a permanently lifted position, but said nothing.

“‘I’m Carry On,’” Luke said, just as confused.

“‘Well, that’s a name,’ retorts Firebelle. ‘It seems that everypony has at least two nowadays. Perhaps I’ll choose another as well. Sophia, perhaps?’ ‘I think you have to earn a “Sophia”,’ Hope says.”

“Um...okay,” Luke said. “Well. I guess she’d ask, ‘Do either of you know where the rest of the group has gone?’”

“‘They continued to the next level,’ Hope says, ‘and so shall we.’ She began to walk around the chamber, looking for something. She stops when she picks up a gold mind-control ring that had been discarded in the fight. ‘Well, I’m ready,’ she announces. ‘Shall we catch up with them?’”

“‘We shall!’ Carry on says, waving to the tunnel away. ‘Let’s meet up with the rest.’”

Chapter 38: A Horse with Two Names

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 38: A Horse with Two Names

“Now that all of that is settled,” said Torn Deck, “let’s continue going around this ring and find the entrance.” Saying this, the earth pony walked right into the southern wall. “Oh, a dead end.”

Burnished Lore put away the silver circlet he had been examining. “Will you need me to continue on with you, or shall I wait here?” He didn’t seem to be showing any particular preference for or against either option, so used was he to being an accessory to other ponies’ adventures.

“Well...” Midnight put a hoof to her chin as she thought, staring at Bernie. “I would definitely prefer you come with us until you are, um...adventurized again?” She looked up to a corner of the ceiling and shrugged helplessly.

“Fine with me,” he said with a shrug of his wings.

“Where to next?” asked Facet.

“Well, I guess we have to go counter-clockwise if we can’t go clockwise,” said Torn Deck. He walked past Itty Bitty to exit the grotto.

Following him, the group walked past the dead end where they had heard voices, going northwest. Before too long, they faced the entrance to a branch passage that led southwest. “Third time’s the charm?” Torn asked rhetorically before heading down the passage, the others at his hooves.

The end of the twenty pony-length passage was blocked by a pair of riveted iron doors, each three pony-lengths wide and eleven pony-heights tall. From the look of the hinges set into the stone, each of these great doors must have been as least three hooves thick. On each door were many leering demonic visages in bronze. Weird symbols formed a crabbed tracery around the border of each great iron portal. In the center of each was a plaque with the following runes inscribed in Equine:

Eggwife’s treasure rests within.
Her curse on any who disturb it.
Seek no further to steal it, nor
to free she who is prisoned here,
for a fate worse than death is
sure to come to those foals who
violate this circumscribed place.

“I do not believe that ‘prisoned’ is being used properly,” Burnished complained. “Trying to make your poem scan is poor excuse for bad vocabulary use.”

Midnight laughed, and shook her head. “It’s fine, not like we’re the ones who wrote it or anything,” she joked.

“Wh...where’s the guard?” asked Itty Bitty. “That verse in the upper level said that ‘Many are the guards who wait / As you go to the middle hex.’”

“Well, it could imply Guards, as in safeguards, like traps,” the sun cleric replied. “The sort of thing we would definitely need a thief for.”

“Oh,” said Facet, dropping. “It’s too bad that she’s stone right now.”

“Yes,” said Torn with a knowing smile. “But realistically, there’s no way we would have waited.”

“Waited for what?” asked Bumble.

“Never mind,” said Torn. “Burnished, could you Detect Magic on these doors?”

Burnished Lore pulled out his Wand of Detect Magic, and then stopped. “These are iron doors, yes?” he asked. “I’m not sure how I am absolutely certain of that fact from merely a visual inspection, but somehow I am.”

“Well, supposing they are?” asked Torn Deck.

“Cold iron?”

Facet stepped forward, rapped loudly on the door with a hoof, and listened to the echo. “Yes, cold iron.”

“Then it can’t be enchanted,” said Burnished. “Of course, that also means that there is no way to detect what sort of magic is on the other side of those doors. That’s an entirely passive safeguard right there. The kind designed to make you really, really nervous.”

Torn Deck sighed. “I don’t suppose anypony answered Facet’s knock?” he asked.

“Are you asking the invisible voice?” asked Dragon Choss.

Burnished looked at the monster and screamed.

“It’s alright, little pony,” Lion Choss said. “In case you forgot, we’re on your side...for now.”

“Oh, uh yes,” Bernie said. “I thought I hallucinated you earlier.”

“Let me open the door,” said Dragon Choss with an evil smile. “If Eggwife or one of her lieutenants waits on the other side of that door, I want our faces to be first that she sees, so that she may know the doom that awaits her!”

Midnight laid a hoof on Choss’s foreleg. “Choss...Chossy, as much as that would be amusing, I think that rushing in recklessly might get us all hurt. Are we sure there is no further tunnel to explore?”

The tunnel continued clockwise past the corridor that led to this door. I mean, it’s a hexagon, and you’ve covered basically one of the six sides of said hexagon.

“Well, maybe we just got lucky?” speculated Bumble.

“Unless one of the other six doors is the real door,” Midnight said meaningfully.

As the group thought on these words, the sounds of ponies walking and talking could once again be heard in the distance, both approaching and receding at the same time.

Facet produced a piece of green chalk, and marked a numeral “1” on a demon’s forehead. “A complete circuit, then?” she asked.

“Sure, why not?” said Torn Deck.

The group turned around, and retraced their steps. When they exited the corridor, the sounds of other ponies vanished.

“Hey!” exclaimed a familiar voice. “Guess who’s back in the land of the animate?”

They turned to see three ponies, two familiar, one not. The most-welcome sight was Carry On, restored to normal. A little behind her was Hope Springs, and a bit behind her was a pink pegasus with faintly glowing cat eyes.

“You were successful in your mission for Celestia! Oh, Hope I am overjoyed to see you alright!” Midnight rushed forward to embrace her friend, as Carry On huffed.

“‘Mission’. Sure, we can call it that.” She waited a moment for her chance at a hug, and quickly grew impatient. “Well! I’m starting to get the feeling that I’m unwanted!” she said grumpily.

“Carry!” Torn exclaimed, racing forward to pull the thief into a tight embrace. “I missed having an unstable inventory!”

Facet, Itty Bitty and Bumble watched the reunion, faint smiles on their faces. Choss stepped cautiously forward.

“Oh, Carry, Hope, New Pony—this is Choss,” said Torn. “After freeing him from mind control, he agreed to join our party.”

Choss pushed past the others to stand before the strange new pony, looking her in the eye. “Why are you looking like that?” Dragon Choss finally asked.

The pony held up a foreleg, which was clad in a golden bracelet. “Because if I wasn’t, I’d probably collapse this tunnel.”

“Ah, makes sense,” said Dragon Choss. He used a wingtip to gesture at the silver circlet that was around the pony’s head, pointed at his own, and finally turned to the others and nodded. “I vouch for her. We dragons know our own.”

“And who is she?” asked Burnished. He seemed tremendously excited to be so close to a tame dragon. It was probable that this would be only the first of thousands of questions out of the researcher.

“Sofia,” the pony/dragon said with a toothy grin. Her teeth looked far too sharp for one’s comfort.

Hope rolled her eyes. “So, other than Choss here, have I missed much? Oh, hello, Choss.” She held out a hoof for a shake.

Lion Choss attempted to squeeze the life out of Hope’s hoof, but stopped almost immediately with a shocked expression and backed away.

“Choss...Hope here is my Good Friend,” Midnight said firmly. “Please be nice to her.”

“I wasn’t going to hurt her...much,” protested Lion. “And you’re sure right about good,” he muttered afterwards.

Torn stepped forward to fill the missing adventurer in. “Hope, we followed Celestia’s directions to make the most-direct path down to this level, and now we’re making a circuit of the central area before attempting to enter. Oh, and I suppose I have to ask: does Sofia here count as an adventurer, when it comes to treasure/experience?”

“No!” Sofia exclaimed. “I am done with adventuring! I just need to track down one pony, and then I’ll settle down in a cave and be a good dragon.”

“He’s not here,” Hope said quietly.

“How do you know? He could be any one of them!”

A very dark expression flitted across Hope’s face. “Believe me, I’d know.”

“Oh, right,” said Sofia. “He screwed you over too. I’m sorry I brushed that off in my earlier—”

“Firebelle?” asked Burnished Lore in a fearful voice.

Torn Deck at this point sat down. Although he had nothing in his hooves, he appeared to be miming the motion of eating popcorn.

“Hi, Unca Bernie,” Sofia said in an abashed voice.

“So it’s true. The story that…” Burnished’s eyes briefly looked at Midnight before returning to the disguised dragon. “You’re alive!”

Midnight just looked confused, looking between them nervously.

Burnished and Sofia raced together into a tearful embrace.

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to your warnings, Uncle!” Sofia cried.

“That’s perfectly fine, Child,” said Burnished. “You just needed to prove yourself worthy of your family’s deeds.”

“It was so awful!” Sofia exclaimed. “I was so stupid during my first fight, and then...an adventurer stole me, away from the Inn! And traded me in for a better model!” She broke down in sobs for a minute.

“There, there, cry it out,” said Burnished. “Uncle Bernie is there for you.”

Carry On glared furiously at the same spot in the ceiling that Midnight had addressed earlier, while Midnight scooted closer to Hope.

“But...but it’s pretty neat being a dragon,” Sofia said, pushing Burnished a short distance away. “Look at this!” From her mouth, she produced a thin stream of acid, which defied gravity by looping around to join itself. With some visible concentration on her part, the standing liquid contorted some more and then with a toss of her head she sent the stream into the nearest wall, where it outlined the first initial of her dragon name.

“Bravo!” Dragon Choss cried. “Being a dragon is the best.”

“Hey!” protested Lion Choss and Gorgon Choss in chorus. They were ignored.

“But that’s in Equine,” Dragon Choss continued. “In Draconic, it would look like this…” He blew a narrow stream of fire into the rock wall and formed a different shape.

“Ooh!” exclaimed Sofia. “I’ll have a whole new language to learn! Will you teach me, Choss?”

“Well, I dunno,” Dragon Choss said, suddenly bashful. “I was going to inflict massively overcompensating property damage before returning to Tartarus.” He looked over at Midnight. “Just property damage.”

“Darn right, Mister,” Midnight chuckled. “But really, you could have an entirely different life, a helpful and constructive one, if you wanted... You know...maybe an alignment shift...?” She grinned wider than a pony should be able to.

“I dunno…” Dragon Choss pondered. “Is it true what they say about an all-dragon kingdom to the east?”

“Yup!” exclaimed Sofia. “I was thinking of flying over there when this is all done. Wanna come?” She swished her tail in a manner that caused it to go flying in all directions. On a dragon, the move probably would have looked much more seductive.

Dragon Choss swallowed uncomfortably.

“Hey, what about us?” Lion Choss protested. “If you turn good, does that mean I have to become a vegetarian?”

“Dragons don’t really care one way or the other,” pronounced Burnished Lore. “And of course they have all kinds of interesting rocks to eat.” This last part got Gorgon Choss’ attention.

“Going good would allow you to champion for less of the whole... ‘adventurer wrecks the place and takes everything’ trend too,” Midnight added.

Carry On pouted again. “That’s my favorite part!”

Sofia looked over at Midnight, seeming to see her for the first time. After gesturing Choss to stay where he was, she walked over to the unicorn, in that odd gait that made it even more clear that she was a dragon in a pony’s body. “Nice eyes,” she said, “they suit you. Too bad that silly cloak of yours didn’t work. I never thought it would.”

“It could have worked!” said Hope.

“I’m sorry, I’m afraid I’m at a disadvantage here...” Midnight said nervously, appearing to scan some paper in front of her that noone else could see. “Um...my Cloak of Resistance—zero charges left?”

“I wasn’t really paying attention, sorry,” said Sofia, not really looking very sorry with that creepy grin of hers. “You and Hope were my minions back then, before I came to my senses.”

“Sofia,” said Hope with a wide smile. “You do know who she is, right?”

Sofia lunged forward, putting her eye right up to Midnight’s. “Bri…?” She just as quickly backed away. “No, he’s got blue eyes.”

“Dragons have no sense of personal space,” Burnished commented.

“Noooo,” said Hope. “Someone a bit older.”

“Hey! I am not old,” Midnight huffed. “In either world. Now, I think we should get moving, we have a bunch of doors to check!”

She turned around, and started walking confidently around a slight curve to the corner between two sides of the hexagon, where yet another passage led inward.

Behind her, she heard Hope whisper something in Sofia’s ear, and the disguised dragon trilling.

“And they do that when they’re excited. Or when they win a bet,” said Burnished, catching up with the others.

“Well, let’s hope her excited nature isn’t going to cause us trouble,” Carry said, slipping into the tunnel and checking it carefully for traps.

It was a short passage, and quickly led to a dead end. On the floor of the passage was a small wooden tube.

Facet used her magic to pick it up and shake it a few times, before opening it. “Come on, Cleric spells, come on, Cleric spells...oh. It’s just text: ‘Going north takes you southeast’.” She put the scroll back in the tube and dropped it where she found it.

“Well, anyone know what that means?” Carry asked, as Midnight thought on it.

“Maybe...what if all the directions we’ve received point out an end goal. Like...north goes southeast, southeast goes somewhere else, etcetera, until we get to one that doesn’t redirect somewhere else?” She asked, pulling out the scroll they had found between Choss and the stairs downward. “Going south takes you southwest,” she read.

“Noted,” Torn Deck said with a sigh, adding a couple of notations to the corner of his map. “I hate when the gods pull something like this.”

#

The group backtracked, and walked along the second “face” of the hexagon to reach another passage, leading to an even shorter dead end. Nothing was found in this one.

Continuing on brought them to a spot due north of where the suspected treasure/monster chamber lay. The passage before them went south for some distance, before turning southeast. It dead-ended as well.

“If we dug through that wall, we’d reach our last dead end,” commented Torn, pointing in one direction. Pivoting a bit, he added, “And if we dug through that wall, we’d reach the dead end that had that scroll in it. Somepony is trying to use every possible square in her graph paper, isn’t she?”

Hey, there are real cave systems like this!

Midnight had been sitting, staring at the wall, eyes squinted, for a while. “Hey...what if we are already between realities? What if these walls are...the edges?” She got up as close as she could to the wall, and tried to lift her bag with her telekinesis, to see if she and it were on different planes. She found that they were on the same plane.

Hope rested a hoof on the wall and frowned. “We’re definitely in a different space than the rest of the caverns,” she said. “But the boundary is not here.”

Behind them they heard the phantom ponies once again, but this time they continued to approach, closer and closer, until…

“Um, surprise?” said Chestnut as she walked into view. Behind her were three more adventurers.

Author's Note

This chapter was accompanied by a blog post of Celestia and Luna reviewing a human Western movie. It was to be the start of a series, but ended up not going anywhere.

Chapter 39: Introductions

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 39: Introductions

The latest part of the adventure was in fact much choppier than may have been evident from reading the prior chapter. In fact, every time the adventurers had crossed within the boundary of the “hexagon”, M.J. had raced over to the Apple II computer to see if they would bump into any other groups playing the game at that exact moment (causing Ellen to have Midnight do certain things specifically to make M.J. run back and forth for her amusement). And now that moment had finally arrived.

Mary Jo Powell quickly walked the young woman over to the Founder’s Table. “Gentlemen and ladies,” she said, addressing the audience as much as the others at the table. “This is Alexia, from the Young Woman’s Team. As you may or may not have guessed, her group has been playing the exact same adventure that we are. Now that we have reached the high point of both sessions, I thought it would be expedient to combine our two groups.” She turned to the young woman, who looked understandably nervous, not only at being found out and being taken over to the Founder’s Team table, but also because it looked like she might be losing her role as Pony Handler as a result. “Now if you sit next to me,” M.J. said, “we can alternate rooms. How do you like that?”

“Oh!” said a surprised Alexia. “Yes, that would be fine.”

“Now I’ll be controlling my NPC’s the whole time, and you’ll be controlling yours. OK?” M.J. looked over at her sister and winked, hoping that this strategy might avoid any future mental breakdowns in poor Alexia’s future.

“Oh, of course!” Alexia nodded quickly, staring down at her notes, and biting her lip, before showing a page of particular importance to the next part of the story. It was a list of edits to the final rooms, incorporating a steam powered pumping system that she had thought up, to pump the water back up to the top floor, and adding a few steam and water based traps in doing so. “I figure this bit will have to be reverted...right?”

M.J. laughed out loud. “No, we should definitely use it,” she said. Take that, Celestia! she thought. I just found a replacement for your stupid sponge. “So, how many players do you have left?”

“Well, they’re rather split up at the moment—they decided it would be a good idea to go through four doors at once.”

This gave M.J. another reason to laugh.

“As far as this group goes, there’s just Chestnut, Ameri and Glittering Gem. Plus one of mine.”

“Have their players come over with their chairs. We ought to be able to fit three more in what with…” M.J. looked over at her husband. “Gary, it’s been an hour in game time. Do you try to take over Burnished Lore again?”

Gary started to walk over, but stopped with a mental image of the free Uncle Bernie embracing his lost niece. “Ah, you know what?” he asked. “I am going to strategically choose to withhold my takeover attempt until the appropriate moment.” He finished walking over, to gather his things together so that a girl or two could sit in his place.

Erica sat in his place, bouncing slightly and smiling as she locked onto Mary Jo like a laser beam, going so far as to arrange her seat to face her directly instead of the center of the table. Alexia rolled her eyes and mumbled to her fellow PH out of the corner of her mouth. “Ignore everything Erica says about dragons.”

M.J. rolled her eyes, knowing that that particular request was going to be impossible to enforce.

Sally was seated between Ellen and Luke, and Brittany was seated between Luke and Alexia. The other three girls moved their chairs over so they could watch.

#

Brian’s team tried to do their best to ignore what was going on. They had pretty much finished their adventure, and were now busy assaying and splitting up the treasure of the Cult of Assassins they had just taken down. Little did they know that at least half of that treasure was cursed, which would be an adventure in and of itself.

#

“Alright then, let us describe our groups to each other,” said M.J. “Girls, before you are a team of ten adventurers. In the lead is a white earth pony stallion with blond hair. Behind him is a white pegasus mare with a brown mane, a dark blue unicorn mare with a white mane, an elderly gray pegasus stallion, a light blue unicorn mare with a white mane, a white pegasus mare (rather shy), a tan earth pony mare with a pink mane, a small pink pegasus mare with blue-and-red mane and weird eyes...oh, and a baby blue adorably cute breezie, and Chossos the Gorgimera. I believe you met an alternate-universe version of him already.”

“Kill it with acid!” Erica cheered aggressively.

The audience wasn’t entirely sure if the killing injunction was against the gorgimera...or the too-cute-to-live breezie.

“The odd-looking pegasus shares a look with the dragon head of the creature, causing them to both chuckle a little,” reported M.J. “Alright, now tell my group what you look like.”

Alexia sat up a bit to read off her party’s description.

“Approaching the group, there are four adventurers. Leading the group is a unicorn mare that is colored in swirls of brown and green, wearing a scale-themed cloak and leering hungrily at the more exotic creatures of your party.”

Alexia shot a look at Erica, and the player bowed a little, sheepishly looking to her papers.

“Just behind her are two more mares. One is plainly a fighter, armed with a blade and heavy armor, her mocha brown nose and coppery mane are all that can be seen of her, and she does not attempt to approach you. Then there is Gem. You can tell the earth pony is named Gem, because she has an iron crown with ‘GEM’ inlaid into it in copper. Her pastel blue coat and similarly light pink mane are only obscured with a harness to hold her bow and arrows, and a light chainmail shirt. Lastly behind them all is a deep brown and black colored griffon, holding two daggers and wearing a black shimmering cloak that is hard to focus on.”

The P.H. stopped and looked to M.J. hopefully to see what she thought of her description.

The elder Handler nodded in approval.

“I take advantage of the intimidation factor of heading the larger group,” said Susan. “The white earth pony stallion says, ‘Halt! Who are you, and what are you doing in these caverns?’ Pretty standard, yes, but somepony had to say it.”

Erica rotated to face Susan, before crossing her arms and sitting up a bit taller. “’Your job, by the looks of it! Tell me, why is that thing allowed to prowl around your group, risking its attack at any time? I would advise you let us take it into custody.’” The girl’s demeanor changed swiftly as she grinned and turned back to M.J. “‘I’m sure we would get along swimmingly.’ Ameri says enticingly to the dragon head of the creature.” Erica smiled, acknowledging her character’s quirk as a joke, and hoping she wouldn’t be punished for it.

“‘Hey!’” Ellen barked. “‘I’m trying to convince the poor dear to come to the side of good—you don’t get to foalnap Chossy!’”

The two playfully tossed chips at each other for a bit.

“I am GEM, the mighty warrior!” announced Brittany. “Look on, ye mighty, and despair!” Nobody noticed her.

“‘Let’s see, I’ll make this quick,’ says the light blue unicorn,” said M.J. “The breezie is Bumble, my shy friend here is Itty Bitty—no laughing—the combination creature is Choss, the midnight-colored unicorn is the Lady Midnight Sparkle, the white-and-blonde pegasus is Torn Deck, the white-and-brown pegasus is Carry On, the pink pegasus is Firebelle—.’ ‘Sophia,’ the just-named pegasus interrupts. ‘But she prefers the name Sophia, as I was about to say,’ the unicorn from earlier continues. ‘I am Facet, and our respected elder is the famous Burnished Lore. Oh right, and the tan pony in the back is Hope Springs. You’re pretty good at making yourself invisible, you know that?’ Hope declines to respond.”

Alexia turned to M.J. and took on a frown. “The griffon in the back scowls at Hope and Midnight, and shrouds himself in his cloak to vanish from sight for the most part.”

Erica quickly rolled a die, and Alexia shook her head. “‘Every time, I try to spot that grumpy b... Anyway! My name is Ameri Valerie Camori, founder of the draconic researcher’s guild, and mage of transformation and conjuration. This is Gem, as she stated. Gem are you still conscious or did Mound of Horace kill you?’” Erica looked over to Brittany.

“I still survive,” Brittany announced in a haughty manner. If she had a cloak, she would have thrown it dramatically over one shoulder.

“‘Do you perform your “research” upon the living or the dead?’ the pegasus known as Sophia asks Ameri cautiously. ‘I have known those willing to do both.’”

Erica gasped. “Ameri shudders in revulsion. ‘To kill a creature so majestic and pure as a dragon...truly it is the most horrifying of acts!’”

“Oh, this is going to be great,” Ellen chuckled, giving M.J. a knowing look.

“Sophia puts on a close-lipped smile. ‘Very well,’ she says mysteriously.”

“Chestnut says, ‘We’re...we’re here to stop...to stop bad ponies from getting artifacts,’” Sally said, playing out her character Chestnut’s speech impediment.

“‘Oh, that’s good,’ said Itty Bitty. ‘That’s what we’re doing, too. That’s why we were asking you before. We wanted to make sure that you weren’t with the Earth Pony Army.’”

“Oh, that’s right!” exclaimed Susan. “Whatever happened to those guys? Weren’t they, like a day behind us or something? Even after Midnight’s trick, you’d think they would have made it in by now.”

Four hours earlier...

“My followers,” proclaimed Stride Eater, General and self-proclaimed “Greatest Being of the Past, Present, or Future”. “We are at the brink of an historic moment. Behind me is the entrance to the Lost Caverns of Soap Caverns, source of the power that will propel me to living god of this world. Before we are finished, the unicorns and pegasi, griffons and dragons, will all be wiped from the face of Planet Stride Eater, and the earth ponies will be...supreme!”

He was answered by a weak cheer from the several dozen ponies still following him. After weeks of his growing mania—and a three hour pre-victory speech—they had just about reached the end of their collective rope.

“Death to the unbelievers!” Stride Eater shouted. “Death to any who dare to put the salt on their vegetables, before the pepper!”

#

Several hundred pony heights above them, a flight of dragons were circling.

“Prince Blueblood!” Praporshchik Hanrielt cried out, flying over to be next to the co-leader of the Celestia Relief Expedition.

The unicorn leaned out of his dragon-borne carriage, a mimosa clutched in his magic. “Yes?”

“We have reached the Caverns, Sir. Also, there appears to be a small gathering of ponies below. Are they more of your forces?”

Prince Blueblood looked down, and instantly recognized the group by the the sea of checkered bandanas. “Oh, I love those guys!” he cried. “I think we should dive right down there, and surprise them.”

“Oh, I don’t think that will go over well, considering how the common pony view most dragons,” Hanrielt said.

“I suppose you’re right,” said the Prince. “Very well. Let us land out of their sight. I’ll send a group of unicorns to approach them unarmed, and then you can gauge your action by their action.”

“Sounds fair,” said Hanrielt, who flew off to bring this suggestion into practice.

Prince Blueblood squeed. “Oh, I do love having others take care of my enemies for me.”

#

From her post atop a nearby mountain, Nestoria watched the shifting dragon formation with great interest. “It looks like I owe Mr. Silver at the Inn a hundred bits,” she muttered to herself, before setting out for the breezie village.

“We skipped half the cave system, remember?” Ellen said, “So I think we’re safe from the Army.”

Alexia nervously passed a note to M.J. which read “The griffon is trying to figure out what class Hope is, and what equipment she has on her. He’s also casting Detect Good with a wand.”

Mary Jo smiled as she worked out her reply: “Hope’s fighter attire is so standard, she could be the model in a Warrior Smash! catalog. If he’s looking for a bag full of bits, he’d be better off with practically anypony else. As for the wand, the results are a mess, because she isn’t standing far enough away from the others. There’s intense goodness somewhere in her general direction, but also chaotic evil, which is probably from Choss, but you can’t be sure.”

Alexia nodded on reading the note and looked back up to the table, where Erica had fallen silent, deep in thought, as Ellen waited for M.J. to be done writing things down.

M.J. looked over at Alexia. “We’ll say that this room is mine, and you can have the next one.” To the players she asked, “What do you do? Do you wish to wait for your missing colleagues?”

“‘Well, they’re trying to go in through a different door. What do you think, Gem?’” Erica asked her friend.

“‘They’ll come by sooner or later. I trust Sheen to do the right thing. We could try listening at the next door we find to see if they made it in?’”

Sally nodded. “‘Agree.’”

“‘Excellent! And you people?’” Erica asked

Ellen chuckled. “We were ready to go when you got here. Though we are going through this by a puzzle method. Following the clues.”

“‘What clues?’” asked Brittany.

“‘A couple of poems,’ says Torn Deck. ‘Going south takes you southwest, and going north takes you southeast.”

“‘Southwest goes northwest,’” said Sally as Chestnut. “‘That’s what happened to us.’”

“‘It’s the doors,’” said Brittany. “They teleport you when you try to use them. There’s probably a way to prevent it, but we haven’t figured it out yet.’”

“Southwest,” said Susan, looking at her map. “You must have used the door we marked, then.”

M.J. passed Ellen a note. “You’ll love this,” it said. “Hope, who’s been spending so much time bossing you all around, is trying to keep from being noticed by the newcomers. Can’t tell if she’s scared of them, or worried about scaring them.”

Ellen nodded, before laying her note down.

“Okay. The teleporting doors can’t all teleport to other doors, so we can either go through this all one at a time, or we could use the hints. What’s the order so far, north to south...”

“‘We took the north, northeast, southeast and south doors,’” said Brittany. “‘Or, to state it by the direction we were going when we teleported, we went south, southwest, northwest and north. We only know for sure what happened to our group, the ones that went southwest. Oh, and we weren’t teleported to another door—we were sent a good distance into the caverns, and had to fight our way past an umber hulk to return to this area.’”

“Okay. So you went into the southwest door, that’s not one that we have a note for, is it?” Ellen asked, as she wrote something.

“‘No, but Wooden Bit’s group went south,’” said Brittany. “‘So they must have ended up southwest.’”

Ellen nodded, and bit the eraser on her pencil. “We might have to go through all of the right ones in the right order. Heck, each one could be a different dimension, converging on the center. So what was the first one, back near Chossy’s place?”

“‘Going south takes you southwest,’” read Susan.

“Well, let’s make a circuit of the whole thing, then try going through the north door. Going ‘South’ to go southwest. Right?” Luke asked.

“‘Alright,’” said Susan.

“‘I’m no good with mind puzzles,’ says Gorgon Choss. ‘So I’ll go wherever.’ With no dissenters, the group withdraws from the long passage. As you return to the Hexagon, Bumble looks nervously around. ‘Well,’ he says, ‘you didn’t disappear, and neither did we. So I guess we’re stuck together.’ Ignoring a branch passage leading north, you continue counter-clockwise for a bit. The passage makes a sharp turn south, which means if you want to continue to go around, you’ll have to explore a bit.” M.J. looks over at Alexia, for her to take over narration.

“You, uh, keep going south,” she says, looking down at the map. “After...thirty-five ponylengths, you stop. The end of the passage is blocked by a pair of riveted iron doors, each three pony-lengths wide and eleven pony-heights tall. From the look of the hinges set into the stone, each of these great doors must be as least three hooves thick. On each door are many leering demonic visages in bronze. Weird symbols form a crabbed tracery around the border of each great iron portal. In the center of each is a plaque with the following runes inscribed in Equine:

Eggwife’s treasure rests within.
Her curse on any who disturb it.
Seek no further to steal it, nor
to free she who is prisoned here,
for a fate worse than death is
sure to come to those foals who
violate this circumscribed place.

“Seriously?” asked Susan. “Are you required to read the exact same words?”

Alexia, expert Pony Handler that she was, put on her poker face.

“It doesn’t matter, but anyway! This is the northernmost door?” Erica asked impatiently.

“Yes,” said Susan, consulting her map.

“‘Do you want me to mark it?’ Facet asks, pulling out her piece of chalk.”

“Midnight nods. ‘Mark it with a N for the northernmost door.’” Ellen explained.

“Facet does so.”

“Then I touch the door!” Erica said, as Luke looked to the others wide eyed.

“It’s a cold iron door,” said Alexia. “Nothing happens.”

“Midnight steps forward. Then she looks back to Hope. ‘Hey, any tips before I try opening this thing?’” she asked, watching Alexia and M.J.

“‘Randomly sent to find a way,’” says Mary Jo as Hope, “‘Back to a different iron door; / A seventh time and you may stay / And seek the glowing prize no more. That was the message in front of the stairs. It’s Eggswife, being thorough.’ Her voice turns bitter. ‘She went to all of that trouble to seed her little dungeons with monsters and deathtraps, and she’s not about to let you avoid them. If you want inside, if you want her treasure, then you have to open seven doors, be teleported six times, and only on the seventh will you be let in. The order doesn’t matter!’”

It occurred to Luke that although Carry On had read the poem that had been left for them at the top of the stairs, Hope never had. He decided, after thinking on it for a moment, that this was about par for the course with all the strangeness this session.

“Gotcha. So, through we go.” With that, Ellen mimed opening a door, and waited to see what happened.

“It’s too heavy for one pony alone to open,” said Alexia.

“Facet’s willing to help,” said M.J. “If you ask Choss, he could probably open it all by himself.”

Alexia raised her hand. “The griffon is standing next to Midnight, and seems ready and willing to help.”

“Midnight appraises the griffon carefully. ‘What did you say your name was?’ she asks cautiously.”

Alexia smiled cruelly. “‘I didn’t. Let us get on with this.’”

Ellen frowned, but nodded. “‘Let’s.’”

“So you heave against the door,” said Alexia. “All three of you have to succeed at an Open Doors roll.”

Mary Jo rolled a six-sided die. “Two! She succeeds.”

Ellen shook her head with a sigh, as Alexia casually rolled and showed M.J. her three.

“Failing doesn’t harm the door,” said Alexia. “It just means you have to rest a minute.”

“Okay. ‘Who can take my place?’ Midnight asks.” Ellen stared at Luke, who shrugged.

“Carry On steps up to make an attempt.”

“Torn Deck is undoubtedly the strongest in our group.”

“‘I could make a go of it,’ Hope said quietly.”

“‘It would be greatly appreciated,’” Ellen said gently.

Susan rolled a six and cursed. “That’s not fair!”

Mary Jo rolled for Hope, but didn’t bother reporting the result since Susan had failed.

Luke chuckled, looking to Mary Jo. “Well, ‘Chossy’ I think it’s your turn now that we’ve all made fools of ourselves.”

“‘Very well,’ said Lion Choss. He advances to the door, rears up on his hind legs, and grabbs hold of the doors. ‘Choss!’ the three heads say in a battle cry. The lion forelimbs pull hard, the dragon wings pull the creature back, but the gorgon’s rear legs slip at the last moment, and the door remains immobile.

“‘This is all rather ridiculous,’ remarks Burnished Lore. ‘You’re attacking that door like bipeds! I suggest you use that rope of yours to allow all of us to pull at the same time. That way, we only need three successes out of more than a dozen to get in.’”

Ellen smirked, and nodded. “Leave it to Bernie to be the voice of reason. Is there a handle or something that we’ve been pulling on?”

“Yes,” said Alexia.

“Then we tie our rope on and heave!”

“Bumble uses his legband to become a pegasus. Sophia looks at him strangely when he does this, but says nothing,” announced Mary Jo.

“Alright, first three successes please announce themselves,” said Alexia.

“Yes!” exclaimed Susan. “Torn Deck succeeds.”

“Itty Bitty succeeds,” Mary Jo said with a surprised smile.

“Midnight gets it this time,” Ellen advised.

Luke clapped, then shrugged and stayed quiet as he realized he was fourth.

“The doors open,” said Alexia.

“Choss and Sophia position themselves to hold the doors open,” said M.J.

“Beyond the iron doors is a corridor with walls of red marble,” said Alexia.

“‘Just like before,’” commented Sally.

“The walls and floor are polished and dust-free,” Alexia continued. “A thick black carpet runs from the entry to an ebony door 13 ponylengths distant, the gleam of silver hinges, studs and ring apparent even from outside the passageway.

“The arched ceiling is of black marble shot through with bands of scarlet. A dim red glow seems to come from the ceiling, giving an eerie light which pervades the entire passageway.

“On the left wall, a painting shows a four-and-a-half ponylength wooden boat with a lovely, black-maned pony at the tiller, smiling under a stormy night sky. What do you do?”

“Burnished casts Detect Magic,” said M.J.

“It is practically redundant,” said Alexia. “The room is radiating magic so intense that all of you standing outside can feel it as a faint electrical tingle, the unicorns most of all.”

“Yeesh...” Ellen looked her sheet over before speaking again. “Hope, I’m thinking we have to get to the other side, so we might as well go, but I’m not sure what kind of effect that could have on us...”

“I roll to look for traps,” Luke said. “Thirty six percent?”

“No traps,” said Alexia. “Not of the mechanical type, anyway. I mean, from an engineering standpoint, there are sixteen moving points in this passage, represented by the four hinges of the four doors. Nothing else will move—no pressure points in the floor or walls, no holes for dart traps or what have you. The outer doors are magic-proof, and you can see that there’s nothing trapped about them. Opening the inner doors? No way to tell what will happen.”

Ellen steeled herself, and nodded. “Midnight would lead them in, and open the other set of doors.”

“The ebony doors open at the slightest touch,” Alexia narrated, “and at the same time, the iron doors behind the group close inexorably.

“At the very instant of the wooden door’s opening, there is a brief flash of golden radiance…”

Mary Jo takes over narration from Alexia. “The room you are now in appears to have been hewn from the rock. It is seven ponylengths square, and it has a six ponyheight ceiling. Four passageways lead from it, one in the center of each wall.”

“Well,” remarked Sally, “here we are.”

“Burnished examines the area for magic,” said M.J. “He finds none. ‘Not surprising,’ he comments, ‘Teleportation destination points are rarely enchanted.’”

“Gem checks the southwest corner,” said Brittany.

After a moment of consultation between the two P.H.’s, M.J. replied. “You don’t find the mark you were looking for.”

“I guess we’re not in the same place we were sent last time, then,” Brittany concluded.

Susan grabbed another sheet of graph paper and drew in the room. “I’ll copy this over to the main map as soon as we figure out where we are,” she said. “But considering the verses, I am going to bet we’re in the southwest corner of the map.”

“So, north or east to get back to the Hexagon?” Luke speculated.

From the snack table, Gary laughed. “As if M.J. would ever make it that easy!” he exclaimed.

“You keep out of this!” his wife exclaimed. “Unless you want to make another attempt on Burnished.”

“Not yet.”

“Then shush your mouth.”

“‘North,’ says Hope Springs firmly. ‘And why are you so sure of north?’ asks Bumble (who’s become a breezie again)—mostly because I don’t want to let her get away with bossing the rest of you around. ‘Because decisiveness is a very useful trait for an adventurer to have,’ she says, but I don’t believe that’s her true reason.”

Many members of the table (and audience) share confused looks at M.J.’s monologue.

“Um, I don’t know what you’ve got going on with this ‘Hope’ character,” Brittany said cautiously, “but I’ve got no objection to going north.”

“North’s fine with me,” said Susan, her eyes fixed on her maps.

Mary Jo looked around the table. “As nopony has any objections, you go north.”

“As you walk north, the path splits off paths going southwest and southeast,” said Alexia, taking over narration. “Do you keep going north?”

“Southeast should lead back to the Hexagon, so we go that way,” said Susan.

“Dead end,” said Alexia.

“Drat. Keep going north.”

“The northern path curves into a northwestern path.”

“So it’s going the wrong way.”

“Basically,” said Alexia. Rather casually, she added, “Oh, a narrow path branches off eastwards, just as the main path bends northwards.”

“East!” exclaimed Susan.

“You enter a small and non-descript area with a strange box in the center. Atop the box is a skull, probably that of a pony or zebra.”

Utter pandemonium broke out at this pronouncement, especially among those who had played or watched the playing of the infamous “Oubliette of Terror” game back in ‘82. Cries of “lich!” and “demilich!” echoed through the hall.

Mary Jo had herself a good laugh.

“Excuse me! Excuse me!” Alexia had to repeat herself. “Did I say crystal skull? No, I did not.”

“So you’re telling me that somebody just put a skull on a box?” asked Susan incredulously. “An ordinary skull?”

“‘What color is it?’ asked Burnished, who is standing towards the back of this group, and so can’t get a good look at it.”

“It’s white,” said Alexia.

M.J. pursed her lips—presumably in character—but said nothing. “Hope is getting impatient. She’ll probably spoil everything if one of you don’t react quickly.”

Alexia looked over at her. “What?” she asked in confusion, totally unused to having NPCs pushing her around.

Ellen raised her hand. “Um...I’d like to take the skull off the top of the chest.”

“As soon as you get within one ponylength of the chest, the floor comes to life and wraps itself around you. It inflicts five points of crushing damage.”

“‘It’s a trap!’ Hope exclaims, too late.”

Author's Note

The inevitable mental image of a badly-animated Princess Celestia uttering that last line in Admiral Ackbar's voice will be left as an exercise for the reader.

Chapter 40: That Trapper's a Keeper

Author's Note

The author would like to credit McPoodle as the source of this chapter's title. Soon after suggesting it, he unfortunately wandered into a dark alley, which is where the Pun Police finally caught up with him. He was never seen again.

Chapter 40: That Trapper's a Keeper

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 40: That Trapper’s a Keeper

“Craaaap...” Ellen groaned. “I was hoping it would be a genie skull.”

“There’s no such thing as a genie skull!” Erica cried out.

“And there’s only two places you’ll ever see bleached white skulls,” M.J. lectured her sister. “In a museum, and in the vicinity of an acid-spewing nasty.”

“Well!” exclaimed Susan, perhaps a bit too happy. “I vent my frustration with this crazy game, as well as try to save Midnight’s life, by attacking the monster.”

“Crossbow and Bolt +2?” asked Alexia.

“Yes.”

“I ready my most powerful magic,” Erica said haughtily, “my Wand of Lightning Bolts.”

“Choss gives off his battle cry, and then tries to roast the monster with fire,” said Mary Jo.

“Luckily for Midnight, trappers are resistant to fire damage,” said Alexia.

“Yeah, Choss doesn’t know that,” said M.J.

“Can I try to escape?” Ellen asked hopefully.

“No,” said Alexia. “The thing is squeezing you so tight that you can’t move. No saving throw.”

Mary Jo looked down at the array of character sheets she was responsible for. “Burnished attacks with his magic sword, Capriccio Bitalien. Facet uses her Staff of Striking, triple charge. Itty Bitty uses her bastard sword +2—because I always think it hilarious that Itty Bitty has a bastard sword. Bumble changes into a pegasus, which uses up his turn. Sophia looks around at the tiny room, which uses up her turn.”

Erica looked to her sheet, then to the crude map. “I move to one of the corners so that I won’t hit anypony, then let loose a bolt of lightning to hit the thing.”

“Well, moving will take up a turn,” said Alexia.

Luke sighed. “No backstab damage on this thing, huh?”

“No back!” Alexia said with a laugh. “The rest of you are behind too many others to attack. OK, let’s go through these in order. Torn Deck.”

“Miss.”

“Ameri moves. Choss.”

“Hits with breath weapon for...seven damage.”

“Which only counts as three because of the trapper’s fire resistance. Burnished Lore.”

“1!” M.J. exclaims with annoyance after rolling her die.

“You drop Capriccio, which exclaims something nasty in Bitalian. You’ll have to spend the next round picking it back up. Facet.”

“Hit!” exclaimed M.J. happily, knowing this was potentially the most powerful weapon to be used this round. “Fifteen damage.”

“Itty Bitty.”

“Miss.”

“And that ends the round. The next round, the trapper...hits Midnight for 5 points of crushing damage.”

Ellen bit her lip, marking Midnight down from 8 to 3 hit points.

Susan sighed. “I’m pretty much a lightweight when it comes to damage, so I step aside to allow the others to have their turn.”

“‘Can we mind-control it?’ Dragon Choss asks—he’s sort of preoccupied with mind control. ‘We only have anti-mind control circlets,’ answers Bumble. I shall not repeat Choss’ reply, as it wasn’t very polite. Choss goes in for claw attacks. Bumble attacks with his dagger +1. Burnished is picking up his sword. Facet uses her Staff, again at triple charge. Itty Bitty uses her sword +2 again. Sophia runs in...for a hoof attack, apparently. And Hope…‘Will this do?’ Where’d she get that mind-control circlet from? She runs in and attempts to put the circlet around a pseudopod of the trapper.”

“Carry On attacks with Nosey—that’s his magic sword +2,” said Luke.

“Ameri looses a lightning bolt.”

Mary Jo starts rolling dice. “Choss hits one out of two times, for three damage. Bumble misses. Facet misses. Itty Bitty hits, for ten damage. Sophia hits once, for three damage. Hope...succeeds in getting the mind-control circlet around a pseudopod! As a result, Midnight is no longer being crushed, and can begin to fight back on the next round. And Carry On...misses. Next round.”

Susan shrugged. “Torn Deck takes a shot with his crossbow and bolt +2.”

“The usual for my characters,” said M.J., sounding somewhere between bored and frustrated. “Claw attacks for Choss. Dagger +1 for Bumble. Capriccio Bitalien for Burnished. Staff of Striking, triple charge, for Facet. Bastard sword +2 for Itty Bitty. Hoof attack for Sophia. And Hope...is trying to pry the trapper open to free Midnight? Why didn’t you say that first? I would have had everypony helping you!”

By this point, the players and audience had become so used to “Hope’s” antics that they didn’t even notice anything out of the ordinary.

Ellen smiled and clasped her hands together. “Is it my turn to try and escape?”

“Yes,” said Alexia. “If you try to escape, then that basically means that both you and Hope are using Strength checks to try and break the trapper’s hold. Maybe two of you will be enough...maybe it won’t.”

“Can Carry On try to help as well?” Luke asked, figuring that it would be a better use of time than stabbing stone-like skin.

“Yes.”

“I’m in,” said Sally. “Chestnut is pretty strong.”

“Alright, that’s all that are going to be able to fit in this round,” Alexia said, picking up her 20-sided die. “And let the dice rolling begin!”

“Torn Deck misses,” reported Susan.

Mary Jo started to play out her character’s attacks. “Choss hits one out of two times...again. He must have a wonky claw. For three damage. Bumble hits, for four damage. Burnished misses. Facet...ooh, rolled a 1. Facet broke her Staff of Striking. Itty Bitty misses. Sophia must also have a wonkiness problem—she hits once, for three damage. Hope succeeds at her Strength check.”

Luke nodded along with the results. “I got a four, well below my strength, so I succeed, how about you, Ellen?”

The second Powell sister just looked relieved. “Might be a step away from being unconscious, but I succeed.”

“And so does Chestnut,” said Sally.

“Between the four of you, you manage to pry the arms of the creature apart long enough to pull Midnight free. At this point you have a weird-looking thing that looks kinda like a stone tulip.”

“‘Trappers can’t move,’ says Burnished. ‘So unless you want to bash this thing until it dies on the unlikely chance that it’s actually hiding a treasure worth taking, I think we’re done here.’” M.J. smiled rather incredulously at herself. “That’s despite the fact that you’d only collect half experience. It’s not what I would do were I an Equestrian pony, but that’s pretty solidly what Burnished Lore would advise under the circumstances.”

“Well, this is pretty obviously not a combat mission,” said Susan, sitting back, “and the treasure promised at the end is going to be more that worth it, I think.”

“Yeah, just a lesson to be learned...” Ellen sighed.

“Facet looks at her broken stick and whimpers. Burnished comforts her. ‘There, there,’ he says, ‘there will always be more magic items.’”

“‘Well, should I use my healing or speak with Celestia for it?’ Midnight asks the group in general.” As she spoke, Ellen’s lip trembled—she seemed to be taking the whole encounter as a failure of her handling of the situation.

“‘Save your healing for others,’” said Susan. “‘If you’ve got free healing, abuse it! Especially when you’re down as many hit points as you are right now.’ Oh, and while I’m at it, I thank Hope for her awesome moves, because it looks like Midnight here would have been a goner if not for her.”

“Midnight gives Hope a nice big hug. ‘Thank you. I’ll be much more careful in the future.’ Then I think of the sun.”

“Celestia is standing before you, shaking. Not in anger, but in fear. She’s nearly as traumatized as...never mind. ‘You almost died!’ she cries, pulling you into a tight embrace. ‘You almost made me break my promise.’ Her fear turns to rage. ‘Never do something so foolish with that body again!’ She missed a ‘foalish’ punning opportunity. For shame. Oh, and you have an instant suntan now, courtesy of the goddess of the sun. Congratulations.”

“I um...well... ‘Celestia, I’m sorry. I thought I could keep this from happening, and I was careless. But...with all of my...friends and...fans watching, I lost sight of what I needed to do. Please forgive me,’” Ellen begged.

“Celestia steps back, warily judging the sincerity of your expression.” Mary Jo waited for a few seconds, staring at Ellen, until she began wibbling her bottom lip again. “I never could resist that expression, and apparently, neither can Celestia. ‘I forgive you,’ she says. And down comes the horn o’ plenty. Bong!” She reaches forward with her sister’s magic wand from yesterday and bops her on the head with it. “Now stop with the lip!”

The crowd laughed.

Ellen relaxed a bit and smiled. “‘Thank you, Celestia. Thank you for believing in me, and letting me believe in you. I’ll make you proud of me.’”

“Celestia does nothing more than nod in acknowledgement, a smile upon her lips. And you return to yourself. Facet is feeling a little bit better, while Hope...has also recovered her composure.” M.J. looked over at Alexia, signaling that she could resume her control of this part of the adventure.

“There’s nothing else in this room,” said Alexia. “Do you leave?”

“I never even got to go in there!” complained Brittany.

“You’re not missing much,” said Sally.

“Yeah, the room is old hat,” Luke said haughtily.

Ellen chuckled, but seemed more interested in her character sheet. “So, we are still looking for the hexagon, right?”

Erica, who had gotten distracted doodling on her sheet, sprung back into action.

“Yes! Onwards, led by the great and skilled Ameri!”

Chapter 41: Syd and Marte Krofft This Isn't

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 42: Reunions, Happy and Otherwise

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 42: Reunions, Happy and Otherwise

“You leave the room with the trapper and head back out into the passageway, which continues north for fifteen ponylengths,” Alexia Reichart narrated to the group of players. “You are now at a fork, with a passage that leads back southwest, or you can go southeast or north.”

“Southeast,” said Susan, her eyes on her map.

“You head southeast down a wider-than-usual passage, until you emerge into a smallish cave. There is a short dead-end passage to the southeast. There is a passage east, another north, and another south.”

“That’s it!” announced Susan. “We’re back on the Hexagon. East will probably take us to a door we haven’t used yet. The northwest door, which would mean passing through it would be going southeast.”

“Okay,” Erica said, looking back and forth as though judging the tunnels. “After consulting my hireling, Torn Deck, I agree! Let us go onward to the East!”

“Now hold on,” said Brittany, gesturing to the three girls standing behind the others. “We’ve got some of our party still trying to meet up with us. Do I hear anything? Any ponies approaching us?”

“Yes,” said Alexia. “It’s quite faint, but you do hear the sound of hooves down the southern passage.”

“Giant hooves?” asked Susan, cautiously. Those who had been watching their prior showcases knew exactly why she asked this, and why the phrase “keep running!” had become a leitmotif of the showcases in general.

“No,” said Alexia. “Normal-sized hooves.”

“‘We wait,’” M.J. immediately said in character. “Or...you could wait for somepony other than Hope to call the shots.”

“No, we wait,” said Brittany. “Gem sits down and does her hooves. No way am I going to get myself lost looking for them.”

Sally shook her head in disgust. “We could at least call out for them.”

Brittany shrugged. “Sure. We do that.”

“The steps seem to get faster after you call out. After a few minutes, you finally see the cause of the noise. Molly, Polly—get yourselves closer to the table.” Alexia directed this last instruction to a pair of identical twins standing behind Luke. “We’re bringing you back in. Turning the corner of this ‘Hexagon’, as you call it, are a filly earth pony and a fledgling griffon, both brown with white spots. I’ll tell you right now because you’ll never keep them straight otherwise: the griffon is named Cumulus, and the pony’s name is Accumulous, although she’ll only answer to Cumulous.”

“‘We’re identical twin cousins,’” the pair said in creepy unison.

Alexia had the look of one who’s had to deal with this sort of business for a period not less than years. “With them is their guardian, a pegasus stallion named Four Bearings. ‘Ah finally!’ he exclaims, ‘I thought I’d never find any peace!’”

“Choss practically has a conniption,” said M.J. with a smirk. “‘Make up your minds!’ the three heads cry out as one.”

“‘Don’t wanna’,” said Molly. Or perhaps Polly.

“Maybe...just maybe, you two should be our leaders, and go find the big enemy boss,” Erica snidely suggested.

“They’d probably be the lone survivors,” Brittany remarked, before getting into character as Gem. “‘By the way, what happened to you?”

“‘We ended up in the southeast corner of the caverns,’ Four replied.”

“‘Fight any m...monsters?’” Sally as Chestnut asked.

“‘The vicious loop!’”

“‘They mean to say they found a tiny circular passage and went around it over one hundred times looking for secret passages,’ Four said wearily. ‘We’re only here because they finally got so dizzy that they stumbled out here by mistake, and I then had to drag them the rest of the way around.’”

“‘Let’s do it again!’” the pair chorused.

Alexia groaned in character. “For the thousandth time, No!”

“‘You ever have kids, Hope?’ Midnight asks.” Re-thinking her question only after it had left her mouth, Ellen looked to her sister with an expression of dread.

Mary Jo’s expression was simply heart-breaking. “‘I’ve taken care of one or two,’ she whispers. ‘None of my own, though. Can’t.’” She sighed deeply afterward, expressing her personal opinion of this revelation.

“Oh!” Wide eyed, Ellen bit her lip, before nodding. “‘Well...hopefully this is a good experience. I’m...sorry, Hope. Um...Cumulus?’” she asked, looking to the twins.

“‘Yes?’” asked Molly.

“Hope gives Midnight quite a cold look at the word ‘experience’. Must be one of her trigger words,” said M.J. “Um...sorry to interrupt. Carry on.”

“‘Yes?’” asked Luke with a wide grin.

“Not you.”

“Midnight sternly looks to the twins. ‘Did you go through any doors but the one that you’ve already gone through? Because we have to keep the number of doors we each go through the same,’” she explained.

“No, just the one,’ Four replies. Just then, you hear screaming from the north. It’s the sound of panicked ponies, running towards you.”

“Do we hear anything else, like roaring, or heavy hoof falls?” asked Susan.

“No,” said Alexia. “Just two scared ponies.”

“Gem positions herself to catch the two and uses her earth pony powers to brace herself. ‘Stop!’ she cries.”

“Two ponies run into the room,” said Alexia. “One is a tan earth pony stallion with a brown mane and an off-colored bit as his cutie mark. The other is a light blue unicorn mare with a shimmering mane that looks like it is flowing underwater. They stop, take one look at Choss, and immediately turn back around and run in the opposite direction, still screaming.”

The last of the standing girls, recognizing the description of her characters, grabs a chair and squeezes in between Brittany and Mary Jo. “Hi, I’m Irene,” she introduces herself. “And don’t mind Wooden and Wavy—they’re silly.”

“A few minutes later, they run back into whatever scared them before, and they start running back.”

“Choss positions himself next to the entrance of the cavern, and moves to block it when they pass him,” said Mary Jo.

“And Gem catches them again,” added Brittany.

“‘Aaaaah-ugh!’” Irene said in character. “‘Beholder!’ screams Wooden, pointing in one direction. ‘Chimera dude!’ screams Wavy, pointing in another.”

“‘Beholder?!’” Ellen replied, leaning forward to put her hand on the table. “‘Are you sure?’”

Irene thought for a bit. “‘Might have been a couple of gas spores,’ Wooden says cautiously. ‘But that’s definitely a chimera dude,’ says Wavy.”

“‘Good gorgimera,’ says Facet, patting Lion Choss on the head. ‘Probationally,’ grumbles Lion. ‘In any case, I’m not eating ponies,’ says Gorgon.”

“Wooden and Wavy take that as good enough, and introductions are passed around,” said Irene.

“‘So, now can we head for the new door?’” asked Susan as Torn Deck. “I mean, we don’t hear anypony else approaching, do we?”

“No,” said Alexia.

“Then off we go!”

“You walk southeast for two and a third ponylengths,” said Mary Jo, taking over narration. “The end of the passage is blocked by a pair of riveted iron doors, each three pony-lengths wide and eleven pony-heights tall. From the look of the hinges set into the stone, each of these great doors must be as least three hooves thick. On each door are many leering demonic visages in bronze. Weird symbols form a crabbed tracery around the border of each great iron portal. In the center of each is a plaque with the following runes inscribed in Equine:

Eggwife’s treasure rests within.
Her curse on any who disturb it.
Seek no further to steal it, nor
to free she who is prisoned here,
for a fate worse than death is
sure to come to those foals who
violate this circumscribed place.

“This must get really boring for you,” commented Brian.

“You’re not in this game, so hush,” said Mary Jo. “Do you open the door?”

“I use my chalk to write ‘NW’ in green chalk first,” said Susan.

Ellen frowned a little. “Didn’t we just write the number one on the first one?”

“Yeah, and we wrote ‘N’ on the second one. So much for consistency.”

“Carry checks for traps,” Luke said, knowing how futile it was.

“Nope,” M.J. said after rolling. “Cold iron door, no traps, mechanical or magical. You get out the rope and start tugging.”

Luke rolled, and nodded happily. “Carry pulls her weight this time.”

“Nope,” said Susan. “And she rolled a six, so I guess she falls to the ground or something.”

“We only need three successes,” said M.J. “Transformed Bumble fails. Burnished falls on his rump. Itty Bitty succeeds with the strength of two ponies! Facet falls down, Hope falls down—this must be a really slippery passage or something.”

“Midnight also fails,” Ellen declared, as Erica from the younger group rolled and smugly crossed her arms.

“The awesome and rad Ameri, who is clearly in charge, succeeds.”

“OK, that’s enough,” said Mary Jo. “The door opens. This is the sixth door that either of your parties has opened.” She looked down at a note that Alexia passed her. “Hmm, good idea. Hold on.” She got up and walked over to the computer. Whatever she saw there, she definitely didn’t like. “Alright,” she said, addressing the audience. “If any of you are responsible for hacking into the computer system, or knows who did, please step forward immediately, or suffer my wrath.”

Gary, who was standing right there, peeked over her shoulder. “Is, uh...is this part of the act?” he asked.

“No!” exclaimed Mary Jo. “And it’s not a hack—she’s really there!” She dropped her voice to a whisper before continuing. “This says that Pat Crowther, the world-famous cave explorer, just dropped into Equestria with her immediate family.”

“Pat Crowther, the co-creator of Colossal Cave Adventure,” Gary whispered deadpan. “Since when were you dragging real-life figures into this story? And how did a family of humans suddenly land in Equestria?”

“Since now?” Mary Jo said, perhaps not as quietly as she would have liked. “There’s a doomsday function tied into the dimensional system if too many individuals try to access the central area at the same time. It’s a random component to drag in random monsters, although theoretically, if you had a couple dozen individuals playing the game at the same time, then anything could happen!”

“So what’s going on?” demanded Susan.

“Um, well…” Mary Jo said, as she walked back to the table. “You find that the corridor on the other side of the iron doors is sort of...full.”

Gary picks up a chair and sits down behind Erica.

“I know I am going to regret this,” said Luke. “But full of what?”

“Let’s start with the things that remotely make sense. Closest to the doors are what appears to be an average-sized pony tour group, led by an overweight grey earth pony stallion. Hope seems to recognize him.” M.J. rolled her eyes. “Of course she would recognize him. ‘Water Cooler!’ she exclaimed. ‘What are you doing here?’ ‘Hmm...I have my suspicions, but I’d rather not elaborate at the present moment,’ he said, looking around him. ‘Let’s just say that I appear to have taken a left turn at Albuquerque.’ But that’s not the weirdest part.” She sighed just thinking of the reaction she was about to get. “There were also four bipedal creatures wearing clothes, two of them tall as, oh, Celestia, the other two of average pony height. They are all wearing yellow caving gear and miner’s helmets.”

“Seriously?” asked Brittany in protest. She looked beseechingly at Alexia. “Please tell me that we’re not putting humans in a pony story!”

The younger P.H. grimaced a little and shrugged. “I know, it’s bad form, but by the rules for this collision of realities—by the way, that would make a great band title—anything can get sucked in! So, here we have some humans from some caves on Earth somehow transposed onto our game. I say we deal with it the only way we can...put them in a quiet corner and leave.”

“Well, they’re kind of in the way,” noted Susan.

“One of the two human girls pulls out a camera, I’m sorry—a strange device—out of her pocket and causes a bright flash of light to appear. ‘Now they’ll have to believe me,’ she says.” Mary Jo looked right at her sister before adding. “As if my brain wasn’t full enough as it was…”

Erica rolls her eyes. “Stunning spell on the lot of them.”

“No!” Ellen said, horror stricken.

“Nothing happens, a temporary protection granted them due to the trip between dimensions. Well, other than them getting just as dazed for a moment as you all were earlier. ‘They must be as weirded out as we are,’ the adult male comments.”

“We are going to have a long talk about this later,” Susan vowed to Mary Jo, before getting into character. “‘We are about to march into a massive ‘good vs. evil’ style fight on the other side of those doors,’ Torn Deck announces, pointing at the enchanted doors. ‘Anypony, anything not interested in the risk of serious bodily harm, had better exit through those doors over there while you still have the chance!’”

“The adult female human—who I might as well call Pat because that’s her name, takes one look at her two daughters before making up her mind. ‘I didn’t bring my nasty knife, sorry,’ she says with a grin. She begins leading her family past you out of the room. ‘We’ll be cheering you on, honest.’”

“Nasty knife?” Luke said incredulously.

“Yeah, she actually showed me—I mean yes, she actually has one,” said Mary Jo. “And it does live up to its moniker. Most of the tour group—who by the way seemed to have no qualms with humans walking among them—followed the humans out of the room, muttering something about the south-west door and ‘the demons of the dark.’ Once they leave, the only newcomers in the room are Water Cooler and…” She got up to check the computer one last time. “Brian, how did you get into this game?!”

“The idiot put a portable hole inside a bag of holding,” replied a bored Edgar.

Mary Jo face-palmed. “That’s like, the only possible way to get sucked into another dimension in the Pony-Handler’s Manual!” she exclaimed.

“I don’t think even Luna could survive an encounter with this guy,” Ellen muttered to herself.

“Your game was sounding much more fun than ours!” Brian exclaimed, loudly dragging his chair across the floor to find a space three rows away from the Founder’s Table.

“Ugh!” M.J. exclaimed, before suddenly making up her mind. “You know what? Fine! For your incredible feats of heroism across the centuries, all of the characters I control move aside to let you face the big boss first. Even Hope...no, especially Hope Springs!”

“Ameri moves aside and bows.” Erica said with great decorum.

“The end of the line of characters that...what’s the name of your character, Brian?”

“Griffon.”

“Yes, I know he’s a griffon. What’s his name?”

“Griffon. Griffon the Griffon.”

Mary Jo stared at him. “If I let you play that dragon, what would you have renamed her?”

“...Death. Death Head the Death Bringer of Fiery Death.”

“Except black dragons spit acid,” observed Ellen.

“...of Spitty Death?”

The entire table, at this point, was observing Brian as though just realizing that he was mentally handicapped, and that they probably needed to apologize for jokes that were too accurate.

“So!” said Mary Jo grimly. “You walk right past that one pony you wanted to throttle for her freaky mind-control powers—”

“Hey!” exclaimed Brian.

“Too late! And you walk up to the pair of ebony doors with silver hinges. And standing there, her forelegs crossed as she stands uncomfortably on her hind legs, is Firebelle the pegasus, remarkably reverted back into her original pegasus self.”

Brian looked incredulously at Mary Jo. “Crippled wings and everything?”

“...Yes.”

“Why? I made her awesome.”

“You want to ask her why?” M.J. asked, a malicious smile growing on her face.

Brian quickly looked over his character sheet. “Sure! Griffon can take any pegasus dame.”

“Alright, you ask her. And her reply is this: ‘You, me. Through those doors to face the monster responsible for all this madness. There I’ll show you what kind of pony I’m made out of.’”

“‘You’re on!’” Brian exclaimed. “I open the doors!”

Author's Note

This chapter was accompanied by the last three parts of "Luna Reviews FIM Season 3": Episodes 11, 12 and 13.

Chapter 43: Eggwife's Treasure

By this point, Hope Springs was literally living two lives.

On the one hoof, she was in the Lost Cavern of Soap Candy in Equestria, surrounded by ponies both free and enthralled, and Midnight Sparkle was speaking with the voice of her friend. And on another hoof, she was a rogue thought in the mind of Mary Jo Powell in Los Angeles on the world of the humans, surrounded by other humans playing out the fate of Equestria, and Midnight’s words were spoken by Ellen Powell on Earth an instant before she heard those words uttered by Midnight on Equestria. And not only sounds—she also saw through Mary Jo’s eyes, eyes whose motions she could not control.

If she had lived less than a mortal lifetime, she might have had difficulty with this situation; developed a headache, at the very least. But the same talent that allowed her to handle hundreds of years of memories also allowed her to manage simultaneous conversations with relative ease.

But even with the doubling of information available to her, or perhaps because of it, Celestia was having increasing trouble getting a handle on what was happening around her. In desperation, she retreated to the Astral Plane, without taking Midnight with her. She expected the Equestrian world to freeze while the Human world continued, probably with M.J. narrating her actions to the players and spectators, but she was pleasantly surprised to find that she was surrounded by silence.

Celestia took in a deep breath, and slowly let it out. Instinctually, she reached out a hoof and summoned up an imaginary miniature planet Equus. Imaginary scale models of the moon and sun orbited around it.

Celestia imagined all of the ponies living and suffering on that world, with innocent ponies twisted into individuals like Firebelle in the swamp, individuals who saw violence as the only solution to every problem, who classified everyone who was different as an enemy instead of as a potential friend. She imagined all of the dragons and other intelligent beings, twisted even more, into creatures of aggression and bloodlust. She imagined she could hear all of the suffering inhabitants of Equestria crying out, crying out to her for rescue. She imagined...

Celestia flicked her hoof, ever so slightly, and the cries became those of thanksgiving. Equestria was free, because Celestia had freed it. Once again, Celestia was Princess. Once again, every pony, every dragon, every griffon and every minotaur that lived in Equestria hailed her as their savior, as their paragon of virtue, for did not her absence lead directly to the horrors of the Game? Would they not become even more dependent on her than before? Would not her head be turned even faster by their empty praise? And would that not mean another inevitable failure, like...?

A blackness washed across the imaginary Equus, another cry of pain and torment. But this was not the cry of Princess Celestia’s subjects, no. This time it was the cry of the one who she had failed, her sister Luna, trapped because of her failures inside the mind of a mad Nightmare, in the cold surface of the moon, for all eternity.

Celestia groaned in anguish and turned away from the tiny terrestrial system. She took a few moments to clear her thoughts, and returned once again to her conundrum—what to do about that door. Turning back to the model, she fixed her eyes on the small planet and as she stared, it zoomed towards her, larger and larger. Through the surface of the earth her vision penetrated, reaching down to the lower level of the Lost Caverns of Soap Candy, a level with a large hexagonal black space in the middle, where nothing further could be seen. The space that she and the other members of her group were currently occupying.

“So,” she said to herself as she tapped her hoof into the darkness, “we’ve reached the center of the map, the place where the forbidden treasures are stored, the source of the dimensional disturbances, the portal to Tartarus.” She desperately leaned closer to try to make out some detail that was being obscured from her, the sort of thing only visible on M.J.’s own map...

“Could I?” she asked herself tremulously. “Would it cause the whole world to collapse in on itself?” She smiled mischievously. “Oh, but I do so want to try.”

And so she summoned Mary Jo Powell into the recesses of her own mind for a little chat.

#

The human who appeared before her was utterly speechless at the majestic sight of the tall white alicorn mare with flowing pastel mane.

“Do you mind if we—?” Celestia began.

Mary Jo held a finger up in the air to stop her, turned away, and then screamed at the top of her lungs for nearly a minute.

“Um...sorry?” a confused Celestia said afterwards. She then summoned up a glass of warm tea and honey to offer to her.

M.J. gratefully took a few sips from the glass before answering. “Oh, that wasn’t for you—not really. Mostly it was letting off the stress from how crazy this game is getting, with so many people watching. Although I will admit that you pulling me into what looks an awful lot like a coma is somewhat disconcerting. Will I awaken in an intensive care unit?”

Celestia shook her head. “We are frozen in time,” she told the human. “When I let you go, you will find that no one will have noticed that you were ever absent. Now, while I have you here, I would like to ask you what is going to happen next.”

“You want me to give away the ending?” M.J. asked incredulously. “Are you the sort of pony who reads the last chapter of mystery novels first?”

“Yes,” Celestia answered without hesitation.

“Well I’m not going to tell you,” M.J. answered petulantly, turning away. “I put a lot of effort into writing this, and I won’t have you spoil it.”

“Spoil what?” pressed Celestia. “A bloodbath? An insoluble deathtrap? You know now that these are real ponies walking through that door, as real as any human in your ‘convention center’.”

“Y...yes,” M.J. wavered. “Well, I wouldn’t have created the endgame the way I did if I knew that earlier, would I? Nevertheless, what’s on the other side of those doors has to be dealt with before the game ends. Before the players stop playing, and you get your friends back.”

“Why?” Celestia practically begged. “Why can’t you, I don’t know, accidentally set fire to the game and call it quits?”

“Because this game counts!” Mary Jo replied, turning back to face the alicorn. “The consequences of these showcase games continue after they finish, don’t they? When Brian’s antics release yet another monster on the countryside, that monster doesn’t fade into sunlight when he stops playing—it’s something that you Equestrians then have to deal with! Well, what’s behind that door has to be dealt with, because if my players don’t do it, there will be consequences. More ponies and humans, and who knows what being pulled into the caverns. Until...” She gritted her teeth. “Until Dreadna, Eggswife’s ‘treasure’, her daughter and unwilling successor, emerges to carry out the dead conqueror’s master plan: to carve out another empire. There, you made me give it away.”

“Tell me how to stop it.” Celestia held up a hoof beseechingly. “Please.”

Mary Jo sighed. “Just go down there,” she said. “Believe me when I tell you that you are uniquely qualified to handle the situation.”

“And will I have my power ‘down there’?” Celestia asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

As Mary Jo watched, Celestia closed her eyes and concentrated. Her form flickered a few times, before fading out, leaving Mary Jo alone in the nothingness.

She only had to wait two seconds.

Celestia popped back into existence, her expression set. “I didn’t change!” she exclaimed to Mary Jo. “I was able to go back, and everything was frozen, but I could move. But I couldn’t become Celestia.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Mary Jo. “I’ve released any restrictions I had upon you. You can become Celestia any time you please. What is holding you back?”

“I can’t,” said Celestia, bowing her head. “I just can’t. You do it. You save Equestria.”

“Me?” Mary Jo asked incredulously. “But you’re the ex-Princess!”

“And you’re the current goddess of Equestria!”

“No,” said Mary Jo, shaking her head. “Howard is. Or whoever it was who invited him to start this whole mess.”

“Discord!” Celestia hissed. “He must have set some rule up about holding one form for too long. It sounds like something He’d stick into a game without telling anypony beforehoof.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Mary Jo. “You surely couldn’t summon me like you’re doing now when we started, so that means you’re getting more and more powerful. Just...just end the pretense already! I figured out you were Hope Springs ages ago, and I hadn’t said anything to be polite, but this is getting ridiculous! For God’s sake, why...?” She stopped herself on seeing Celestia look regretfully at the small white orb with the silhouette of Nightmare Moon upon its surface. With a deep sigh, she hung her head and said, “Very well. We’ll handle it without your direct intervention as Celestia. Now, is there anything else you’d like to know?”

“No,” Celestia said, pacing back and forth. She stopped suddenly and looked up at Mary Jo. “But thank you for your cooperation. I’m going to bring Pat Crowther in here next. Do you want to stick around?”

To M.J., this sounded like an excuse, another reason to put off the moment when she’d have to take charge of Equestria, but outwardly, she did nothing but nod in seeming agreement. “She’s probably going to be much more willing to talk to you with me around,” she said.

“I’m not sure if I believe you,” Patricia Crowther said a few minutes later, after Mary Jo Powell had completed her explanation of how the two worlds were linked, and of the course of this adventure in particular. “Perhaps it would be safest for my sanity if I simply assumed that I was dreaming this whole thing.”

“Sure!” M.J. said a bit too enthusiastically.

“So, Mrs. Crowther...” said Celestia.

“Ah, the talking horse,” Patricia said, turning to face Celestia for the first time.

“Pony,” corrected M.J.

“Oh course,” Patricia said with an inward eye roll. “What would you like to know?”

“These caves in Equestria where you currently are, they are based on the ones you know in the human world, yes?”

“Yes,” Patricia answered.

“Are there any monsters in them?”

“What? No, of course not! There are certainly hazards: rockslides, subsidence, flooding, pockets of unbreathable air. Perhaps even a hibernating bear. But no monsters.”

“But these caves have monsters, the ones in this adventure.”

“Believe me, I know,” said Patricia. “We barely made it past that pack of junior demons with our lives.”

“Why?” Celestia asked. “Why do you think stories have to be populated with monsters? Why do there even have to be stories at all?”

Mary Jo, seeing that the question was not addressed at her, remained quiet, a hand to her chin.

“So you know you are in a story?” Patricia asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Of course,” Celestia said. “I’m in Mary Jo’s story. Perhaps not as an expected character, but there nonetheless.”

“Well,” said Patricia. “Telling stories are how we make sense of the universe, and stories have to have monsters in them. How else are the heroes to prove themselves? Defeating the monster provides the goal of the game. Good defeats evil, and everybody lives happily ever after.”

Celestia sighed. “But that isn’t how it goes. There are always consequences, as Mary Jo told me earlier. There is no ‘happily ever after’. There isn’t even any sense, because tomorrow there will be another ancient evil from the dawn of ponies that nobody had ever heard of until that very moment. Fight after fight after fight against the forces of evil, and for what?”

“Glorious death scenes?” asked Patricia. At receiving a shocked look from Celestia, she replied, “What? That’s the best part!”

“Not if you’re the survivor!” exclaimed Celestia. She turned to Mary Jo. “I...I’m not blaming you for this. I see now that you humans simply have a pony way of thinking, exaggerated in some very unfortunate ways. I’m going to do everything I can to help your players to survive this encounter without becoming directly involved. But please, please, let this be the last time!”

Mary Jo nodded, and stepped forward to hug the distressed alicorn. “I promise,” she said. “I’ve already got that offer to create a new setting, a truly fictional setting, for Ponies & Dragons. This will be the last Showcase set in Equestria.”

“Thank you,” Celestia said, pulling out of the hug. “They’ll be able to build a perfect society without me, I’m sure of it! Well, I suppose we’ll have to go back now.”

“Yes,” said M.J., with a disappointed frown on her face.

With a sigh, Celestia returned first Patricia, and then M.J. to their respective places.

Many times have the adventurers opened those ebon doors, and many times have they discovered themselves elsewhere. This time, however, it appears they have, at last, made progress.

The room beyond the ebony and silver doors was brightly lit and wondrous to behold. It was a perfect sphere thirty ponylengths in diameter. The upper hemisphere formed a dome of lapis lazuli, as dark as the night sky at the top, as pale as a twilight horizon at the equator. The lower hemisphere was serpentine, pale green at the equator, deep green at the bottom of the bowl. The sides of the sphere were perfectly smooth, and looked as if they could not be climbed or walked on.

Beyond the door, which opened onto the sphere’s equator, was a one pony-width wide ledge of green serpentine. Five other doors opened onto similar ledges symmetrically arranged along the equator of the sphere.

A three pony-height tall decorative openwork screen stood at the edge of each ledge. The screen at the edge of the nearest ledge was carved from rare wood and inlaid with ivory and mother-of-pearl. Through the openings in its intricate carvings the party could see a jeweled lathorn on a golden chain, hanging from the center of the dome. Within the lanthorn a steady amber flame burned. Its light was magnified by crystal lenses set in the framework of the lanthorn. The warm and comforting light from this lanthorn made the very air seem to dance with motes of sunlight and moonlight combined.

The lanthorn hung above—

“How long is this description anyway?” Brian whined.

“Long, so shut it,” Alexia said irritably, before regretting her words. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” snarked M.J. “Now please continue.”

“The lanthorn hangs above a bier on which a pegasus mare sleeps. The—”

“A beer?”

“No, a bier. It’s a kind of couch.”

“A sarcophagus?”

“What makes you think that?” Alexia asked somewhat nervously. “It’s just a couch.”

“Oh.”

The bier was a panel of snowy alabaster resting on a block of rose-colored marble. This sat on a broad stone dais rising from the center of the floor. Laid on the dais about the block lay small carpets, and a pair of beautifully fashioned stands held rare porcelain vessels. At the foot of the marble block was a low table with a crystal bowl filled with a rainbow of gems. At the head of the block was a silver tripod which emitted a tiny plume of sweet-smelling smoke.

The sleeping maiden was armored from hooftip to neck in gold-chased plate. A bastard sword lay atop her body, stretching from her neck to her hind hooves. The pegasus’ booted forehooves were crossed over the sword’s pommel. Her face seemed composed beneath her pale white fur. She wore bright red lipstick, and her raven-hued tresses were lustrous. A helmet with plumes as black as the maid’s mane rested on the slab just above her head. Surrounding her were runes and sigils inlaid in gold—moons, stars, and strange symbols.

As Griffon and Firebelle watched, the pony maiden slowly stirred. She passed a wing across her brow, and then blinked her eyes open. She looked around until she spotted the two visitors through the screen, and smiled sweetly. “My rescuers!” she said happily.

“What do you do?”

“Hmm…” said Brian. “How much treasure is down there?”

“All of it,” Alexia said simply. “Except for the lanthorn, which is hanging at eye level.”

“I suppose I could get that last,” said Brian. “Could I slide down to her—”

“Yes,” said Alexia.

“I wasn’t finished! Could I slide down to her, and still look cool?”

“Oh, probably not.”

“Then I’m flying down. Coming with me, Cripple?”

By now Mary Jo had recovered from her experience in Celestia’s personal dimension, and she was now fully in-character. “Firebelle bristled,” she said. “‘You do what you want. I’ll join in as soon as I see something to fight.’ She starts searching the room for something. Choss, impatient that the battle hasn’t started yet, pushes his way in, nearly shoving Firebelle through the screen.”

“‘My hero,’ said the warrior maiden, reclining on her uncomfortable bier and waiting for Griffon to approach. She holds out one hoof expectantly. Burnished Lore, standing a ways back from the entrance, rolls his eyes. ‘Do I even need to tell you ponies now that this is an obvious trap?’ he asks.”

“‘No, but I believe that Griffon has already decided what he will do,’” Ellen said in character.

Luke passed a note to Alexia which read, “Look for any obstacles that would keep Carry from getting to the Lanthorn.”

“None that you can detect,” read the reply. “The chain appears to be unmagical gold. You can probably break it—and reduce the chain’s monetary value by half—with minimal effort.”

“Oh, you had to add that,” Luke sighed, as he thought it over.

Erica was shuffling character sheets, spellbook sheets, and a rough sketch of the room. “Um...Calorous, is this the type of wall that will reflect my spells’ areas of effect?”

Alexia shook her head. “It will spread it along the wall, but as far as you can tell, it won’t push your spell to fill the whole room....you think.” She turned to Brian. “You’re at the bottom of the sphere. Do you help the maiden?”

“Why should I?” he asked. “She’s a freakin’ warrior! No, I start putting the gems into my packs—I figure they’re the most valuable items here that aren’t artifacts.”

Alexia smiled incredulously and shook her head. “The maiden seems rather put off by this reaction. ‘Is anypony going to give a gentlepony her proper respect?’ she proclaims.”

“Oh,” said Mary Jo, as yet another complication presented itself to her brain. “There’s some knocking on the iron doors behind you. I, uh, can still role-play the passage, right, Alexia?”

“Sure,” said Alexia with a shrug.

“Good. Facet tries to open the doors, but there are no handles on this side, and the doors resist being pried open by her magic. ‘Who is it?’ she asks in a loud voice. ‘Haallooo!’ cries a rather annoying voice from the other side.” M.J. passes a note to Ellen. “It’s your favorite uncle, Prince Blueblood. Except that he’s not your favorite. At all.”

“Oh joy,” Ellen groaned. “Uncle Blueblood. Please tell him to go bury his own head in a ditch.”

“‘Oh, Midnight Sparkle, how delightful that you aren’t dead!’ the Prince exclaims from the other side of the door. ‘Now please move aside, because I need to speak with Celestia.’” M.J.’s expression made it clear that she had as little idea what was going on as Ellen did. “Hope walks brusquely past the others to the door. ‘Celestia’s not here, and the rest of us are not in the mood!’ she says forcefully. ‘Not even if you’ve come at the head of a whole army—’ ‘Of dragons?’ Prince Blueblood interrupts with a superior smile that can quite easily be imagined in his voice. ‘Why yes, yes I did. Would you terribly mind if we came in, Miss Springs? We can sort this whole monster-fighting problem for you right now, and then I have a few items for you that were entrusted to my family a few years ago...’ Hope turns very pale. ‘I...I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she says, not very convincingly. ‘I think you do,’ Blueblood replies. ‘It’s a very unique set of armor, worn by a very unique individual.’ Hope snorts angrily. ‘I insist that you are mistaken. Also, that particular set is a fake and you know it. Finally, those iron doors will not open as long as the ebony ones are open, so I’m afraid we have nothing further to say.’ ‘Right!’ the Prince could be heard to order. ‘We go to the next door then!’ Hope does not look happy at this. ‘Just go away!’ she exclaims sadly.”

Ellen, who had been quietly watching her sister’s inner dialog, suddenly spoke up. “‘Wait, Uncle!’” she exclaimed.

“There is a brief pause before the sounds of dozens of hooves—hooves, not claws—stops and one particular set approaches. ‘Yes, Midnight?’ an exasperated prince replies.”

Ellen did her best to look stern. “‘You know who I am, and what I am capable of. I ask you to withdraw from this place. You will be given credit for a portion of the victory. We are currently in a space barely large enough for our group, and an army would do you no good. Do you really think that your dragon friends would drive themselves into a stone sarcophagus on your whim, only for you to shut the lid?’”

“Given the thickness of the doors, the deep sigh that the Prince just uttered has to be inferred. ‘Midnight, Player, whoever you are...I am not like you, and I will never be. I want nothing to do with the treasure in these caverns. Nor do I officially care one way or the other about who lives or who dies in there. (Although personally, I’d like to make this bloodless.) All I care about is the well-being of Miss Hope Springs.’ ‘And what do you intend to do with “Miss Hope Springs?’ the pony in question asks. ‘What could you possibly hope to accomplish that I have not been able to do by myself?’ There is a silence on the other end of the door, as the Prince ponders how to phrase his answer for not only Hope Springs, but both attendant audiences on either side of the door.”

“Oh, M.J. here you go.” Luke passed her a note that simply said “Breaking chain at very top.”

M.J. gave the note to Alexia. “I’m covering the passage; Alexia’s covering the inner sanctum.”

“Well,” said Alexia. “Since you said nothing about how you intended to catch the lanthorn…” She waits about one second.

“I hold onto the chain?” He said with a hopeful smile.

“The lanthorn itself weighs twice as much as you do. The whole chain, being made of solid gold, is ten times heavier than you. It falls like a stone straight for the as-yet unnamed warrior maiden.”

“I’m hoping she’s evil to assuage my guilt,” Luke grumbled, as most of the group looked between the Lanthorn folly and the Blueblood conundrum.

“The maiden, having watched your every move, grabs onto her sword and leaps into the air, easily clearing the falling lanthorn as it smashes into the dais. The lanthorn and chain breaks through the lid of what in fact does turn out to be a sarcophagus, revealing a shallow depression, not really deep enough to hold a pony. In this depression is a box-shaped brass cage filled with several pieces of platinum jewelry. There’s probably additional layers below this one, but this is all you see at the moment.”

“Yoink!” Brian exclaims.

“‘Yoink?’” asks Alexia.

“Yeah, I snag the cage when nobody’s looking.”

“Everybody’s looking!”

“Oh, uh...” He looked over at Mary Jo. “Give me a distraction!”

“What? No! ...Oh, come on!” M.J. practically suffered mood whiplash from how fast the part of her brain not under her control ran away from her. “At that very moment, the northern door to the chamber opens, and a group of ponies and dragons emerge onto the platform. Chestnut, you recognize your brother Sorrel, depending on if you’re paying attention to the inner sanctum or to what’s going on with the outer doors. Carry On, you may or may not recognize Copper Plate. Midnight’s definitely not placed to know what’s going on, and neither is...oh wait, Hope decides to run over to the screen. She pays no attention to the new arrivals, and instead addresses the hovering white pegasus. ‘Dreadna, I beseech you! You are about to face more foes than even you can handle. Take the rational course of action, and withdraw.’” Mary Jo looked apologetically towards Alexia for barging into her part of the story.

Alexia gives her fellow pony-handler a hurt expression for what she did, then reluctantly continued. “The pegasus bares her fangs in rage at being exposed. ‘Never!’ she cries. ‘You will all submit, and die!’ She flies straight for Carry On, and attacks.” She rolls the fatal die to hit, and another for damage. “She touches you with her wing feathers, and you lose 9 hit points...and two levels.”

“I’m only level one,” Luke said in a shocked tone.

“Then you’re dead,” said Alexia sadly.

Chapter 44: Falling Towards Apotheosis

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 44: Falling Towards Apotheosis

“Excuse me,” Gorgon Choss said in a cold voice as he pushed his way through the other adventurers to reach the narrow ledge. “I have a bone to pick with the ‘maiden’.” He tore the folding screen aside and launched his petrifaction gas attack at the flying vampony, but missed. He then flew out of Dreadna’s grasp to await another opportunity.

“No...” Midnight gasped, staring at the pegasus Carry On, who had collapsed into a heap on the floor, pale and lifeless. She seemed unable to process what had happened, as Ameri pushed past her. The mage then flung a spell at the body, of all places, preserving it from further harm.

Immediately after the mage’s spell went off, a griffon in a shimmering black cloak was briefly spotted by the group, directly behind the maiden, studying her intensely. This was not Griffon the Griffon, but rather the griffon who had tried to use an alignment-detecting wand on Hope, the one who was with Ameri and Gem when they had met Midnight—the one who had never even introduced himself.

“Dreadna, I name thee vampony!” Burnished Lore proclaimed, stepping forward. “Immune to poison, charm, sleep and hold spells. Takes half damage from cold or electricity attacks. Armed with the magic sword Slayer, with the power to paralyze Lawful Good clerics on contact, able to fly, detect invisibility or magic. Daughter of Eggswife and the demon Graze.” He laughed out loud. “I fight you with knowledge, with wisdom...and with Big Bee’s Crushing Hoof.” He quickly began reading from a scroll.

Dreadna swooped down to attack, only for Torn Deck to interpose himself with his Shield +3. She swung with Slayer and hit Torn Deck, inflicting 11 damage.

Itty Bitty stepped forward to lob a vial of holy water at the enemy. She missed. Facet tried to do the same, and also missed. However, she was close enough for some of the water to splash upon Dreadna, causing her to burn for 2 hit points damage.

Bumble could do nothing, and Sophia and Gem were too far back to act in this round.

“Stop!” Hope cried vainly. “Stop fighting!”

The pegasus and griffon team of Cumulus and Cumulous took to the air at the top of the spherical chamber, creating a cloud.

The doors to the southern balcony opened to admit Prince Blueblood and a couple of dragon-eyed ponies. From the west, another door opened to admit the earth pony Wooden Bit, the only member of Calorus’ party who had not yet been introduced. All of them arrived too late to do anything but watch.

Burnished Lore completed his spell, and a vast blue hand materialized around Dreadna and began to squeeze, inflicting 9 points of damage.

Torn Deck had no weapons capable of hurting the vampony, so he continued to interpose himself with his shield so that Burnished could continue to cast his spell.

Choss swooped in for an attack, but unfortunately he had used up his allotted gorgon breath and dragon breath attacks, so he was forced to resort to physical attacks. Two claw strikes managed to get past his enemy’s defenses, causing 17 damage.

Midnight shook herself out of her shock, and looked to Hope, before frowning and casting a spell on Torn Deck. “May Celestia’s might protect you!” she cried as a field of positive energy surrounded him. She then stepped closer to her companion.

The black and brown griffon stalked ever so slowly through the air toward Dreadna.

The vampony attempted to touch Torn Deck with her energy-draining feathers. Despite all of his protection, the fighter was hit, and died. She also spontaneously cured 3 hit points of her damage, as Midnight cried out again, this time more in rage than anguish.

Hope looked around her helplessly, as the ponies around her fell to pain and death. She retreated mentally to the human version of events, where damage was numeric and death was merely the prevention of more role-playing. It was so much less traumatizing that way.

Itty Bitty tried to turn the vampony, a nearly-impossible task at her level. Unsurprisingly, she failed. Facet said a magical Prayer to her goddess, which would act to protect the party going forward.

Sophia barreled through the corridor and off the side of the platform, transforming into a black dragon in mid-air. She spit a stream of acid that splashed across Dreadna’s upraised wing, causing her to scream in agony as she took 7 damage.

The two disguised dragons on either side of Prince Blueblood prepared to leap out into the fray, but the unicorn stopped them with a gesture. “Celestia!” he proclaimed to the heavens. “We beseech you to return to the mortal plane and slay this enemy of all that is good and right. Draw your power from your followers! I believe in you!”

The dragons behind him took up the chant: “We believe in you! We believe in you!”

On the opposite platform, the siblings and friends of adventurers also repeated the phrase.

“N...no, don’t,” a shaken Hope whispered as she began to glow.

“This isn’t how it’s supposed to be!” Midnight called out, looking to Hope in shock, before casting a hex at Dreadna, meant to keep her from flying.

Cumulus and Cumulous finished their cloud, and called out to Wooden Bit. “Bless the cloud! Bless the cloud!” they cried in unison.

The cleric quickly did as he was asked. It would be another round before the “holy deluge” could begin.

This moment happened to be the final bit of time required for the griffon, his movements silenced by his magical cloak, to find a weak spot in the vampony’s armor. He drew a sickly green blade and lunged forward, attempting to drive it into her neck.

As she turned to look at the glowing earth pony, the griffon’s dagger nearly missed its mark, but the force of the prayer uttered moments before guided the tip in between two steel plates, and over a hundred pounds of force drove it home.

The attack only did 10 damage, as vamponies aren’t as affected by things such as cut jugulars. Otto the Griffon (or, to use his assassin alias, Death From Above) retrieved his dagger and turned to dive back into the shadows.

The chanting of Celestia’s divinity grew louder and louder, causing Hope to curl herself into a ball at the bottom of the spherical chamber.

Midnight held her, trying to reassure her friend that everything was going to be okay, as she cast a protective sphere around themselves, eyes returning Dreadna’s stare.

Burnished continued to read his scroll, causing 10 more points of crushing damage.

Choss attacked once more, causing 14 damage.

Dreadna turned her attention from the wizard to the gorgimera. “You were supposed to serve me until your dying breath!” she cried.

“I serve none but your father!” Lion Choss replied. “And he was a demon of honor, unlike you!”

“Die!” Dreadna cried, swinging her sword. Her blow struck, inflicting 18 damage upon Choss. Then she restored 3 points to her own health.

Itty Bitty threw her second vial of holy water. She missed. Facet tried the same tactic, and also missed.

Sophia used one of the random innate magical abilities granted by her transformation into a dragon: Shocking Grasp. She succeeded in grabbing onto the vampony—away from her level-draining wings. Despite the enemy’s resistance to electrical attacks, Dreadna still took 6 points of damage.

“Я люблю тебя!” Dragon Choss cried out in his native tongue.

Sophia blushed in response.

“Please talk to me, Hope—everything is going to be okay,” Midnight pleaded, forelegs wrapped tight around her. She cast another spell, this one aimed at Dreadna, trying to daze her.

The vampony momentarily froze in place, just as the rain of holy water struck her, doing 5 damage.

The griffon assassin took this chance to strike again, successfully driving his dagger into her side for 12 more damage. Dreadna screamed, so loud it hurt the ears of all in the chamber. She dissolved into a cloud of green gas that constricted downwards towards the marble block.

“Oh crap...” Alexia mumbled, looking to M.J. sheepishly. “Um...gloomy assassin dude kills her; I thought for sure he would fail his silence check and become bat bait, but, uh...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Mary Jo said. “I designed this chamber to be hell for earth ponies and unicorns, and didn’t expect quite so many...wings to show up.”

“Is Hope okay?” Ellen asked, single minded in her devotion.

“Well, I’d be able to tell you if I could think straight…”

“We believe in Celestia! We believe in Celestia! We believe in Celestia!” The audience just would not give up the chant.

“Shut up, just shut up!” M. J. cried in growing fear, her hands grasped to her head. Slowly, she sank down towards the floor.

Ellen scowled, preparing to stand up and address the mob. But that was when her own hands began glowing. “What…?”

“Time out!” Mary Jo pleaded to the out of control crowd. “Game over! Game…”

“We believe in Celestia!! We believe in Celestia!!”

A vision began to appear in Ellen’s eyes, superimposed over the rowdy crowd, of Hope Springs weeping before her. Her glow increased in intensity, until she suddenly burst into flames. And for a brief moment, Ellen felt Midnight being burnt alive beside her.

A burst of bright light shot from Ellen to Mary Jo, and then into the air above the two of them, forming into the shape of a giant head of Celestia.

“ENOUGH!” the specter cried.

The crowd hushed.

“The inhabitants of Equestria have finally had enough of your bloodlust. I am hereby reclaiming control over this land! And the lot of you are hereby forbidden to ever return! I claim protection over all the ponies and creatures you have victimized, and that protection will. Last. Forever!”

There was a final burst of heat and light, as all electrically-powered devices in the convention center exploded as one. The room was plunged into utter darkness.

“I...don’t think we’re in Kentucky anymore,” remarked the voice of Will Crowther.

“Shut up, just...shut up,” said Howard, the human once known as the pony W.C. “You’re not funny.”

“I...no...I can’t...Jojo! Jojo are you okay?” the trembling voice of Ellen asked. She crawled over to her sister’s unconscious body and cradled it in her arms until the fire department showed up.

Author's Note

Oh, I have been waiting a long time to write the ending to this chapter...

Chapter 45: One Last Game

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 45: One Last Game

On Earth, several months passed.

Mary Jo Powell stared at her whiskey and sour. “It’s one o’clock in the morning,” she said to the table in front of her. “And I’ve completely lost my mind, because I’m actually listening to you. Well, more out of my mind than usual, Ellen.” She was sitting cross-legged on the floor of her sister’s living room. A roaring—and totally unnecessary—fire was making the Southern California January night uncomfortably warm.

“You’re not crazy, Jojo. You’re not out of your mind, but...I need to know. I saw...I felt her burning. I just want to make sure she’s okay, then...we can end it. That’s it, a...a vacation.” Ellen’s smile took on a wistful quality, and she laughed. “It’s hard to believe P&D ever was a vacation for us.”

Mary Jo rolled the glass in her hand. “It was…” She sighed. “It’s massively unfair, is what it was. I thought I was actually doing some good. If Equestria wasn’t real, I would have been doing something good. As it is...A) This is not going to work. Howard’s back, so the spell should be broken. And B) If it does work, I’m a war criminal. She’ll turn that portal around, pull me through, and I’ll have to stand at the pony-sized dock and claim that I was ‘just following the rulebook.’”

Ellen brushed her hair out of her eyes, and tipped her glass back, the amber drink burning down her throat; in the past few weeks she had become accustomed to it. “I don’t think...ugh, I don’t think that Celestia is like that. She cared, toward the end. Maybe not about us, but she stuck with our act, because she didn’t want to hurt us, but I could have been imagining it...I’ve thought about running a one person game...”

Mary Jo shuddered. “No, don’t do that. I just know you’d go off the deep end if you tried. No, it has to be both of us. We’ve faced everything else together, and I won’t let you face the worst...alone.” She reached out and took Ellen’s hand in her own. “Let me get my books from the car.”

The younger Powell squeezed the hand tight, before smiling and shaking her head. “We’ve got to do it right. Snacks first.”

#

Half a bag of Bugles later…

“Alright, so who are you going to play? Midnight?”

“No. If she died, and Celestia couldn’t bring her back, then I don’t want to go against her wishes,” Ellen said, as she fished out a thick stack of old papers from her filing cabinet, and showed it to M.J. “I updated her age. Gave her proper credit and experience for surviving the volcano.”

“Ah, so this really is like old times, then.” She looked over the sheet.

“I hope so...she didn’t seem upset with me, so I figure... That was her, right? Speaking through you?”

“I have no idea. The only two I was truly sure were free-thinking were Celestia and Hope Springs. When Bernie went rogue—well, I was so familiar with the character, it was impossible to distinguish my interpretation of what he’d do and what he actually did. And he didn’t try to interrupt me like Hope did. Same thing goes for Nestoria.”

Ellen shrugged, smiling as she flipped through the papers. “Well...hopefully she doesn’t mind being my mouthpiece again.”

Mary Jo settled herself into her chair and closed her eyes. “Let’s see...where would she be? Still in her cave, I expect. However, let’s say that she got a souvenir from the adventure, in the form of some of the dimension-bending magic of the inner sanctum, wrapped up in a pretty amulet. Sounds like her, right? And that lets her teleport anywhere she’s been before, despite being a bit underpowered of a unicorn to pull that kind of stunt off at her age. So, you’re in your comfy little cave, Nestoria, and...” M.J. suddenly opened her eyes. “And you were just in the middle of telling a mostly-untrue story to Sophia, who is sitting in your study in pegasus form. Huh, I did not plan for you to have company. Maybe this is actually working.”

Ellen grinned, eating another Bugle, before replying. “‘And then everything exploded,’ is how I choose to end my story. It’s a common ending for her.”

“‘Even the dog?!’ Sophia replies. Heh.”

Ellen shrugs. “‘No, not really, Sophia. I’m going to be completely honest with you, I’m not entirely myself right at the moment.’”

“Sophia picks an anti-mind control circlet off a nearby table with her wing feathers and begins to advance on you. ‘Don’t worry, Nesty. I’ve got this.’”

“‘It’s okay. I’m Ellen. It’s nice to meet you. If you want to cut me off, that’s fine, but I need to talk to Celestia.’” She spoke calmly, not making any motions to resist. She hoped that body language carried over in role-playing. It sure seemed to in the past.

“Sophia raises her head, but does not put down the circlet. ‘I’m going to ask you something, and if you lie, I’m going to know it.’ She’s bluffing—it’s really easy to get away with lying to a dragon. ‘Are you responsible for the peace that has descended on Equestria, or did it happen despite you?’”

Ellen laughed. “‘If I could have brought peace without all that adventuring stuff, I would have. No lie here. Want me to cast Zone of Truth? Because I totally can...’” she offered eagerly.

“You might as well tell her that Celestia is responsible. That’s mostly true, after all. Sophia sighs. ‘What do you want?’”

Sitting forward, putting all the sincerity into her voice that she can, Ellen prepared herself emotionally, and asked. “‘I have to know: Who died because of me? Who did I kill?’”

“‘Well...Rigged Bee killed seventy-one monsters, and about fourteen ‘evil’ ponies, although nopony was ever able to prove that they really were irredeemably evil. Nestoria blew up eleven lairs, so that gets a little hard to pin down the death counts. I don’t know a thing about Felnor—sorry. And as for Midnight…”

Ellen sighed. “Yeah, I get it. I was the equivalent of a mass murderer and a careless arsonist before I understood what I was doing—I mean out of the group. What happened to Carry On, to Torn Deck, and...?” She was surprised to find a lump in her throat, but after a sniffle she pushed on. “Midnight Sparkle?”

“You really can’t claim to be responsible for those. Carry On’s player was the one most responsible for her and Torn Deck’s injuries. As for Midnight herself—”

“Oh Luna... They died...” Ellen sobbed, her hand pressed against her mouth to muffle the gasps for air.

“‘No!’ Sophia cries out, wrapping her good wing around you.” M.J. mirrors this move by reaching forward to hug her sister. “‘You forgot about the reason why you were there: Howard’s Lanthorn, capable of deciding between life and death? After the battle, Princess Celestia used it to save everypony she could. Carry On—Winter Harvest, Torn Deck, and Midnight Sparkle were restored to their own minds and their families.”

“Oh!” Ellen wiped her tears away, grinning giddily. “Oh, that’s great news! I...sorry, I just...I felt her burning, you know. Those last moments while I was connected, and...being burned alive... I feel like I owe her an apology, if she’s still willing to talk to me.”

“‘She, uh, she left rather quickly with her sister the captain. I don’t think she was able to handle me being a dragon now.’ Sophia looked down at her disguise. ‘You know what I mean.’”

“‘Oh...’ I wonder where she went... Where did they hail from?” Ellen asked her sister, out of character.

“I thought you memorized your character sheet! They were from Horn’s Reach.”

She rolled her eyes. “You know I only say that to excuse zoning out during sessions. ‘Firebelle, how would you feel about letting me go to Horn’s Reach? You can guard me on the way if you want, make sure I don’t do anything...adventury, but I would like to speak with her. And Celestia. And you but I just spoke with you, and I’m sorry you got caught up by Brian, he’s an enormous ass, and we all hate him.’”

“‘It’s Sophia now, not Firebelle. As far as I’m concerned, Brian killed Firebelle.’ She sighed. ‘I don’t suppose you’ll make my day and tell me that he’s in prison or something?’”

“‘No, but I can get close,’ I say happily. ‘He lost the respect of his entire gaming group, the last group willing to have him in his state, when he tried to make a half-dragon, half-vampony character in the new game they are playing. He no longer has a group of any sort, and I hear he is fancying himself a writer now.’”

“‘Just so long as he doesn’t have any power to dictate reality anymore. Well, you said I could make sure that you don’t do anything adventure-y,’ she says with a sinister smile, ‘and I’m going to hold you to it!’ She wraps a leg around one of your own, and pulls you with an unnatural strength out the door and into the air, where she’s suddenly a grinning black dragon, your body held somewhat comfortably in one claw. ‘Well, if you’re going to take us somewhere, go ahead.’”

“‘Oh my, Sophia, what big claws you have!’ Then I activate the amulet, I’m sure I’ve been to Horn’s Reach back when it was a border crossing and nothing else.”

“There is a flash and you are floating before the gates of the fortress. Sophia comes down for a landing, and then raps on the giant doors like they were somepony’s front door. ‘Hello?’ she asks. The head of a colt pops up next to the top of the door, white coat with a green mane. Consulting a clipboard, he says, ‘Sophia the Black Dragon?’

“‘Yes, and yes,’ said Sophia. ‘I’ve come to bring Ellen the Player. She wishes to speak to Midnight Sparkle.’”

“‘Hiya!’” Ellen says cheerfully. “‘I come in peace, and all that jazz.’”

“The colt looks coldly at you. ‘Stay here,’ he says. ‘I’ll see if she’s willing to talk to you.’ He then ducks back down.”

Ellen took a handful of Bugles, and munched on them as she thought, before pointing at M.J. “‘Sophia, when Celestia said that she would protect her world from us forever...she was trying to say I shouldn’t do stuff exactly like this, wasn’t she?’”

‘Sophia shrugged her wings. ‘I can’t imagine she has anything against just talking. She does it herself all the time, after all. Why do you think Nestoria still lives in that cave of hers instead of in the palace like she deserves?’”

Ellen nodded, sipping her whiskey sour. “‘I’d just like you to appreciate how insane this all feels, Sophia. I’m in another universe, sipping whiskey and talking to my sister, and somehow that equates to communicating with you. We started this all as a way to pass away time, you know. Hours and hours alone, we had pencil and paper...why not, right?’”

“‘I’m no philosopher, Ellen,’ Sophia says. ‘And I still think adventuring’s awesome...when it’s done right. It’s a bit of a minority view nowadays, something “unbefitting a pony”.’ She shows off her fangs as she adds, ‘Good thing I’m not one.’

“‘There is one more thing in your favor,’ a voice said as it approached the doors. ‘I cast a spell to protect all Equestrians against your particular form of mind control. The only reason that you’re controlling Nestoria right now is because she is allowing you. And she can take that control back at any time.’ The immense doors open, revealing the forms of Midnight Sparkle and Hope Springs. It was Hope who was speaking earlier, but with a clear tone of command. ‘Good morning,’ she says, using a hoof to point at her own body. ‘I thought this might be more appropriate for a private conversation.’”

Ellen gasped, and nodded quickly. “‘Oh that’s amazing, so Nesty is okay, and she’s okay with this, oh that’s a load off my mind... How are you doing, Midnight? I’m so...’”

“‘I’m alive, and the world is how it should be,’ Midnight says matter-of-factly. ‘Are we done now? All good? I can go back to my lab?’ She doesn’t seem very impressed to be meeting her puppet-mistress.”

“‘Ouch, I left that bad of an impression, did I?’” Ellen asked with a wince.

“Midnight laughs. ‘I was a half-step away from saving the world without you, forgive me if I’m not star struck. Seeing as how Celestia herself has given me a lab, I spend as much time there as possible. Though...I suppose I can spare a few minutes to at least answer any questions.’ She looks to Hope, humbly deferring to her.”

“‘Okay...’ What should I ask Hope? I mean...oh, I know. ‘Hope, um...I’m sorry.’” Ellen took another sip of her drink, which she had refilled a moment ago. “‘I’m really, truly sorry, and I don’t think that’s enough. But I don’t know what else I can say or do.’”

“Hope looks at you,” M.J. narrated, “and then flicks her eyes up to where I am. Hi! She rolls her eyes—maybe she heard me. ‘First of all, I need to know: is the game over? Midnight discovered that it was being run by a corporation, which means that your personal goodwill might not be enough to stop your people from trying to take over Equestria once again.’”

Ellen bit her lip as she thought it over. “There was...a bit of a scuffle. Um, the public sort of got it into their head that we staged your ‘appearance’ on purpose, and that we blew up every electronic device in the conference hall on purpose. And as a stunt, it didn’t go over very well—we lost control of the company, and they crapped all of our m—” She wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. “Sorry... I know, this is a good thing, but it was...important to me. They got rid of our world, your world. No one will ever officially play it again. Even if they play it privately, we have destroyed any official markers denoting a game as official as well... It’s gone. It’s all gone. They’re on to a new world now, a fake world, with just dragons. Neither me or my sister are involved, so there’s no risk of it touching on a real world...I don’t think...”

“‘Alright, I forgive you,’ Midnight says abruptly, turning to leave. ‘Goodbye.’”

“Huh...” said Ellen, not expecting to be forgiven so calmly. “And what do you think, ‘Hope’?” she asked, as she sloshed her drink around thoughtfully.

“‘You...you took care of her,’ she says, gesturing towards the departing Midnight. ‘Once you understood what was going on, you did everything in your power to protect her, me, and the other members of your party, and when you made a mistake, you tried your best to atone for it. What came before that point...happened, and I have found for my own well-being that I cannot dwell on what has already happened. Therefore, I cannot wish you anything other than the best. It would be unfair if your accomplishments in life ended at such a young age.’”

Tearfully, Ellen waddled forwards on her knees to hug her sister. “‘Maybe...this won’t be the end. Maybe we can start over.’ Also, Nestoria is totally hugging Hope, because hugging Hope is the best thing.”

“‘Hey, that’s my princess, get your own,’ Midnight mutters. I don’t mind being Hope’s hugging proxy, by the way. ‘I suppose this is goodbye,’ Hope says after the hug is done.”

Ellen sat back with a sigh. “I wish it wasn’t. I wish we could keep up communications, make sure everyone is okay, let you know what’s going on...but maybe it’s finally time to let go.”

“‘The number of players in Equestria has been steadily decreasing,’ says Hope, ‘As soon as the number drops to zero, the bond between our worlds will break, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it. You will never be able to contact us again. A pity. I feel there is much we could peacefully discuss when not stuck in an adversarial relationship.’”

“Midnight stops on hearing this and returns to the conversation. ‘I can’t pretend to know what that man did to you two, or what it was like, but you both...did good here. Despite having every reason to pretend like we weren’t real, you saved us. Thank you, Ellen Powell. I hope you find your harmony.’”

“Oh...Oh wow, thank you. Thank you all.” Ellen leaned against a chair, and looked up to her sister, waiting for the end. “Done?” asked a voice inside Ellen’s own mind.

Ellen looked up to M.J. in panic, dropping her glass. “Did you hear that?!”

“Hope smiles in a not entirely friendly way. ‘From the expression on your face, I imagine that would be Nestoria.’ And no, I didn’t hear it.”

“Yup!”

“Oh...oh, Nestoria, you scared me,” Ellen said shakily. Yes...thank you. You know, you were my favorite. Have a good life.”

“‘K!” Nestoria would have totally been a Valley Girl if she had been born on Earth. “Bye!”

“And...I have no idea what happens next, so that must be the end!” M.J. sighed deeply. “That’s the end,” she realized. “That’s really the end. I’m going to miss ponies. I really will.”

Ellen leaped in for another hug.

“Thanks, Jojo.”

Bonus Chapter: Howard

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Bonus Chapter: Howard

Howard Painter was born in Chicago, Illinois, on March 16, 1945, to the widow Cecilia. His father died three months earlier at the Battle of the Bulge. He was raised on television broadcasts of the Three Stooges, Laurel and Hardy, The Marx Brothers, Abbot and Costello, W.C. Fields, Bugs Bunny, and all of the other great comedians of the Twenties, Thirties and Forties.

Starting with his adolescence in the early 1960s, he became increasingly antagonistic towards his mother and authority figures in general. He considered himself a genius (despite plenty of evidence to the contrary) who deserved to be treated like a god by his fellow men. The fact that they refused to do this infuriated him. Howard dropped out of high school and took to drug experimentation and the writing of incomprehensible poetry. On discovering the occult works of Alice Crowley, he made it his goal in life to find a way to escape from the contemporary world, which he had concluded was irredeemably corrupt and unfair. By combining mind-altering drugs and Sumerian incantations, he sought after the secrets of psychic time travel, psychic space travel, and finally psychic dimensional travel.

During one of his self-induced trances, he was contacted by a self-described “lonely spirit of wisdom and strength” named “Cordis”. Cordis promised Howard the wisdom of the gods as a reward for traveling to his realm of pure thought: Trieques. The spell to travel to Triequis required three individuals to carry it out. Howard approached Marcus Powell, the head of a Wisconsin commune, and his main supplier of experimental drugs. Intrigued, Marcus volunteered his own daughters for use in the spell. Howard of course should have questioned this, but he was so desperate for escape that he accepted Marcus’ weak claims that the two were quite mature for their age and had fully consented to be part of this.

With the conclusion of the spell, Howard found himself in a realm markedly different than he had been promised, with “Cordis” nowhere in sight. Also, he was now a god of Equestria, albeit a god whose powers only existed on Equestria, leaving him unable to leave—the spell was one-way, and couldn’t be cast by non-humans. So out of boredom he conquered the land. When he discovered what he’d be required to do to rule the country, he abandoned the throne. He finally had the attention he always craved, but decided he didn’t want it, so he disguised himself as a pony, changing personas over the years to emulate the comedians of his childhood.

After unexpectedly finding himself back on earth, and back in human form, Howard wandered out into the streets of Los Angeles, and became a hermit. He can still sometimes be found to this day, preaching from the top of a cardboard box to anybody who cares to listen, about how fundamentally unfair the world is, and how everything would be better if somebody just put him in charge of the universe.

Author's Note

Just a short bit to address a persistent question in the comments--I sort of hinted at Howard's history, but never spelled it out before now.

Also, for the individual who asked about the extent of Mary Jo's powers in regard to Midnight Sparkle: The most intimidating power of a god is retroactive continuity. In the case of Midnight, M.J. rolled up a character for her husband Gary to play a couple of days before Halloween. Looking at the stats, she decided that this unicorn would be part of the Sparkle family introduced in an earlier campaign. She invented a family history on the spot to justify why this noblepony would want to travel to the Inn of the Prancing Pony.

And just like that, Midnight Sparkle is born twenty-eight years in the past, lives a life that roughly conforms to her character description, and ends up at the Inn. If Hope hadn't gotten her there, then Prince Blueblood would have, or perhaps Duke Comet. The point being that free will in Equestria exists in an inverse proportion to how close you are a player.

Any more questions?

Chapter 47: Two Sisters

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 47: Two Sisters

“What makes you happy, Celestia?”

Celestia raised her weary head. Towering above her was Luna—Luna, not Nightmare Moon. She was wearing the armaments of war, the silver barding she had last deployed against King Sombra, and it glowed a bright bluish white against the harsh gray landscape.

Gray... We’re on the Moon. Of course.

“L...Luna? What’s going on?” she asked in a weak voice. If Luna was the picture of military triumph, than surely she was the symbolic victim, devoid of weapon or clothing, her mane a dull pink. She stretched her neck up, bracing for the killing blow.

“You are dreaming, Sister,” Luna told her coldly. “And I have escaped from the Nightmare. But this is but a brief reprise—the Nightmare was stunned to discover that we had won by default, and I took this moment to contact you.”

“Wait,” said a dazed Celestia, “I don’t...by default?”

Luna frowned. “There are no longer any ponies who fear and hate my night. Therefore, I win. The fact that this was accomplished by removing all ponies from Equestria is immaterial. Nevertheless, she will recover, and she will regain the control that I irrevocably gave to her in my moment of weakness. In the Dreamworld I can extend time, but only so far. So please, Tia, answer the question: What makes you happy? It’s important that you answer me truthfully.”

“Y...you, Luna. You make me—”

“No, Tia! We do not have time for sentimentality. The truth, Tia. Follow the rules of the game and tell me the truth.”

Celestia’s eyes began to water. “That was one of Father’s stupid games, Luna. Part of how he manipulated us to fulfil his master plan. I’m not—”

“Answer the question, Celestia!” Luna pleaded. “Just trust me for once. Please?”

Celestia bowed her head. “Making other ponies happy makes me happy,” she answered in a weary voice.

“And how do you do that, Celestia?” Luna asked, in a voice that did its best to resemble a mostly lost memory of Clover the Clever. “What talents do you possess that make other ponies happy?”

“I can see their shapes,” Celestia answered. “When I know another pony for even a short time, I can see into their souls. See what truly makes them happy, what makes them sad. Even when that contradicts what the pony thinks would make them happy or sad. And then I fit them together in a great board in my mind. I match the pieces together in real life so that everypony is making each other happy.”

“And what about the humans?” Luna asked.

Celestia looked up at her sister. This was not part of the game, she thought. “Well, the humans...I couldn’t see them. No matter how hard I looked, I could not see their shapes in their entirety. They kept surprising me with their complexity. So...” She pondered for a bit. “So I tried to force them into my puzzle board. And, well...” She gestured around her sadly. “You can see the result.”

Luna nodded gravely. “And outside of this mental board of yours—what does that represent?”

“Um...nothing. Monsters. ...Darkness.”

“And you never think about darkness if at all possible,” Luna said accusingly.

“No,” said Celestia.

“Well, I too wish for the happiness of ponies above all,” Luna said quickly, as she felt her time running out. “But I see the darkness first, both the darkness that threatens our ponies, as well as the darkness within their souls, the darkness they need to be ponies. I do not see them as puzzle pieces to be fitted, but as lumps of clay to be shaped—with my advice in their dreams, but mostly by their own actions. That’s what you have to know, Tia: any pony is malleable in their dreams.

“The Nightmare is returning,” she said, her eyes pleading. “And when she takes control once more, there will only be one decision I will be capable of making. A decision I could have made at any time after I let her take control of me. I think you know what I am talking about, Sister. The only weapon left after the Elements rejected you.”

“You never gave her access to your dream powers,” Celestia said faintly, a great fear of what was to come settling itself into her heart.

“The school of dream magic is the most subtle of all,” said Luna. “Able to exploit any loopholes in our prison. With that power, the Nightmare would be able to fully live up to her name.”

Celestia looked up into the starless sky above her, as a tear ran down her muzzle. She then looked her sister straight in the eye and said, “Do it. Send her to me.”

“But she’ll—”

“Do it!” Celestia ordered, before her expression softened. “I trust you.”

Luna closed her eyes, as she and the lunar landscape faded from Celestia’s mind. “So be it.”

Nightmare Moon reached out with the tendrils of her dream magic, seeking any minds in the void. She found one, the mind of her host’s sister, wracked with grief and guilt. With her restraints mysteriously relaxed, she latched herself onto Celestia’s unconscious like a tiny remora on an great white shark, glutting herself on her hated enemy’s grief and guilt. She fed, and she fed, and she fed, stretching dream time out so that Celestia experienced months, years, millennia of the most awful nightmares imaginable. And then she used those nightmares to rewrite Celestia’s mind, to make her the Nightmare’s slave in sleep and when awake. She forced Celestia to watch as she ordered her body to create life and torture it, to betray her every ideal. And still, the tortures continued. The Nightmare drank in nightmares too awful for anyone to survive who wasn’t equipped with centuries of mental resilience, a pony masochistically dedicated to putting herself through the worst nightmares imaginable, to nourish a creature that lived on misery and suffering, more than Nightmare Moon had ever imagined, more that she could possibly handle. Until finally, like a remora forced to drink every drop of a great white’s blood in less than an hour...she blew up.

Princess Luna was free.

Princess Celestia was broken.

And only the powers of a god could heal her.

Chapter 48: Rebirth

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 48: Rebirth

In the wake of the bizarre and inexplicable events of Halloween 1984, the original Equestrian setting for Ponies & Dragons was abandoned. In its wake came Laura Curtis’ Dragon World, and Laura Curtis’ Vampony World, and Laura Curtis’ Steampunk Pony World, Laura Curtis’ Post-aPocalyptic Ponies, and Laura Curtis’...well, you get the idea. Laura and Tracy Curtis basically took over Horsewords, Inc., with the full approval of the ecstatic stockholders, who were seeing sales up to ten times what Mary Jo Powell was ever able to accomplish with the Equestrian setting alone. It looked like Horsewords Inc. and Ponies & Dragons would last forever.

What no one could anticipate was that it was the very success of Horsewords that would spell its doom, rather like that of a certain remora. Before that fateful convention, everybody was playing in the same setting. Now, there were over a dozen different settings, and then there were the books, which actually sold more than the games. After all, reading a book is a lot easier than using your imagination to come up with stories based on rulebooks and module outlines. The fandom—the ones who were actually role-playing, anyway—fragmented into warring factions, each of them convinced that their own tweaks to the rulebook to make their adventures work were the right ones. And each specialized group of fans—especially the readers—was ripe to be stolen away by specialty companies that could do horror, or steampunk, or post-apocalypse, or even fantasy better than a company that was trying to cater to all groups at once. By 1990, the sales had plummeted, the stock price had cratered, and against the wishes of the Curtises, Horsewords Inc. was sold...to a toy company, of all things.

The Fashion Pro Third Edition of the Ponies & Dragons rulebook came out in 1992, and was instantly proclaimed a laughing stock by critics and public alike. Those players who didn’t stick to Second Edition rules created their own pirate editions that proliferated across the fledgling World Wide Web like weeds. Just outside Phoenix, there are three enormous warehouses stocked full of Third Edition rulebooks that the stores returned by the box load in the months after Christmas 1992. The game was officially cancelled by Fashion Pro in 1999, after five solid years without putting out a single product under the P&D banner.

The Curtises were disappointed, but had become well-known fantasy authors outside of the world of ponies, so their disappointment wasn’t that great.

Do not think that the Powell sisters suffered through this period. No, they were divested of their stock by the Curtises on quite generous terms, leaving them independently wealthy. Mary Jo got into the field of self-help books and seminars, especially the realm of mental self-control and relaxation. In interviews, she always managed to imply that she had had a mental breakdown in 1984, without ever actually saying that she had had a mental breakdown.

Ellen Powell continued her career as a corporate lawyer, while also designing a variety of different games on the side for a variety of companies, including Fashion Pro. It was in the wake of the sale of Defenders of Sicily in early 2007 to Fashion Pro that she received a most unexpected request.

At first, she told Brooke Golden, executive vice president in charge of customer retention, that she couldn’t possibly take that request. However after a few months spent in a mountain retreat, she asked for permission to give a formal proposal to the company.

The big day had arrived. Gathered to watch Ellen Powell’s presentation were the board of executives for Fashion Pro, headed by Aly Fassfelder, president of the company. Sitting halfway down the table was Brooke Golden, her eyes riveted on the open door. On the other side of that door, Ellen Powell waited impatiently for permission to begin. Perhaps as a way to torture her further, she could hear every word uttered within.

“This is absurd,” Ms. Fassfelder told Mrs. Golden. “Market research is utterly against this proposal. Why can’t you admit that your recommendation is a weak attempt to make up for your nearly two-decade-old poor decision for Fashion Pro to buy out a doomed gaming company? You can let her in, by the way.”

Ellen Powell walked into the room. Her once bright red hair had faded with the decades, becoming lightly streaked with silver. She wore glasses now instead of her old contacts. And her long plain dress was designed to accentuate her intellect instead of her figure. She was very much the advisor now, instead of the princess.

Ellen stood quietly just inside the doorway, her lips pursed, waiting for her opportunity to speak.

“Well, I would advise you to wait until you’ve heard Ms. Powell’s proposal,” Mrs. Golden said calmly to Ms. Fassfelder. “And this is not about my 1990 recommendation, or for that matter your decision to prematurely close out the Ponies & Dragon line in 1999. Now let us allow Ellen here a chance to speak for herself.” She gestured towards the remote mouse for the presentation.

Ellen took hold of the remote, nodding to those assembled with a smile, and clicked it once.

The screen, which had been black, showed a simple picture of the pile of varied and unrelated books that were the full array of publications on P&D when it closed.

“Hello,” she said warmly. “It’s nice to meet with you. You know who I am, so I won’t bother with my history, but what I think you do need is a refresher on the history of Ponies & Dragons.”

The picture switched to one showing the three original rulebooks.

“When we started, we were living in a world that we wanted an escape from, anything to dive into; a world of bizarre ponies with the power to change the world—that fit the bill. For many years, our own little playground was enough. A circle of ten friends or so, we gradually turned it into a game that could be easily learned by others, and eventually, sold.”

The next slide showed the core rulebooks of the Second Edition.

“We refined our world, not to gain sales, but to make it easier to play, and more fun for our players. That’s what they wanted, something fun. The sales were great, really impressive, and the game spread like wildfire. Then...the Sisters Powell couldn’t handle it anymore.”

The picture changed to a simple snapshot of the ER, with M.J. being wheeled out in a wheelchair.

Ellen paused for a few seconds before continuing in a quieter tone than before. “We grew tired of the fighting, and of the stress of running a company. That much is true. You may think I am here merely to revive old glories. But I am not. I am not asking this board to revive P&D. That game is dead, its market flooded with a million clones and without its primary player base. If someone today asks a member of the game’s primary market what kind of tabletop games they play, our product isn’t even in the top ten. Think about that: not even the top ten, in the field it created.”

The picture changed to that of an adventurer pony, with a sword.

“But I know how to bring back the wonder and joy of the game, without copying this same, tired old concept.”

In the next picture...the sword is gone. That’s the only difference. Ellen smiles, drops her pointing hand to her side, and waits for someone to say something.

Ms. Fassfelder stood up from her chair. “Interesting,” she said, walking up to put her hand on the screen over the image. “You kept the pony, but dropped the source of all the protests.” She turned to face Ellen. “Only there’s one problem—how can you have a role-playing game, with no conflict?”

“You assume that conflict is the same as violence,” Ellen answered. “I grew up with the players, our players. I was one for a very long time. And what I know is that they have a lot of difficulty with a certain source of conflict, not in games, but in real life. In fact, addressing this conflict is the main purpose of our game, and has been all along. Loneliness. Ostracism. Self-imposed isolation. Little girls who have been told that the world is out to get them, and yes, little boys who don’t know how to deal with the emotions and nuances of social interaction. I propose we launch a new line, based on a new idea, not fighting, but being happy. Not conquering an empire, but making friends. A game based on friendship.”

She clicked the clicker, and a picture of Hope Springs appeared‎, with the words “Friendship Is Magic” above her, and “Honesty, Loyalty, Generosity, Laughter, and Kindness” underneath.

Ms. Fassfelder looked at the screen for several seconds, eyes wide, and then...she blinked. “I like it,” she said quietly. “This, this right here.” She pointed at the words. “This is exactly what was missing from Ponies & Dragons, the reason why I was so strongly against its acquisition so long ago. But is it possible? Can you have a game engine driven by cooperation instead of conflict? What...what sort of goals would you give the players under this system?”

“Satisfaction. Well, that’s not all of it. Here is my basic formula: We’ve always had classes and races, and they could mix without limit. I like that, it shows the true potential of anyone. So what I have done is looked at the average group of friends, and made them into archetypes.”

The screen changed to show three tiers: Element, Class, and Race.

“I’ve added a third option, because a lot of the other gaming systems have shown a huge variety in character customization. We need to match that aspect while keeping it easy to understand. We have five elements, three races, and then the following classes...”

The picture zoomed into the classes.

“Researcher, Laborer, Caretaker, Creator, Public Figure, and Expert. Though I am debating changing Expert to something else—it’s supposed to be a pony that has a single goal or pursuit, and is very good at that one thing.”

“So,” said Mrs. Golden, “would that mean that skillsets could be developed in social settings? Trade fairs, say, or...athletic competitions? Which would also allow development of these...Elements of yours?”

“Yes!” Ellen exclaimed. “On the nose, in fact. One of the modules I have in mind is an athletic competition. Here’s the thing, as most of the characters are still learning to be social: despite cheating in the competition being discouraged by the NPCs, the PM is supposed to actively create opportunities for it. The players then get to learn valuable lessons based on that interplay.

“Back to the social aspect of the game though, I am repurposing the alignment system from the original game. Remember, we had Good, Evil, Lawful, and Chaotic. These alignments are still used all over the tabletop gaming world. But...”

The presentation switched to a six sided 3D shape, roughly drawn by Ellen, but labeled on three axes.

“Instead, we have Introverted or Extroverted, then Aggressive or Passive, and finally there is Pioneering or Refining. A nice way to say leader or follower, pretty much.”

Ms. Fassfelder tapped her lip with one fingernail. “Yes. Yes, I think this does show some potential, but it would need a little work to hammer out a few minor flaws. For example, having five elements, three races and six classes will lead to a duplication issue. I suggest adding a sixth element, but...you seem to have covered the obvious traits of friendship. Let’s just say for now that it’s ‘secret’, and fill in the blank later.”

“Sure!” Ellen nodded quickly, sitting down at the table, her presentation forgotten. “We could even work that into the first module, if we wanted. Have it be a discovery process. The friendship of others unlocks it. That’s a pretty solid hook. Another thing, and I know it’s not something you will be super thrilled about, but the world is a dangerous place. We will be keeping hit points, and have some defensive tactics. Definitively this is not a fighting game, but there are moments where a friend saving your life or hitting you needs to have a tangible value.”

“Certainly, certainly,” Fassfelder said with a nod as she re-took her seat. “But all the same, I would prefer a setting where more often than not fighting is going to prove the wrong response to a situation. Leave the choice there, but show the consequences.”

Ellen laughed, relaxing as she laid out some papers. “It’s like you read my mind, Ma’am. So...what do you say?” She opened a folder, and slid across a brutally simple document. “Half share, all creative rights, and if I leave or you buy me out, you have to keep it a monolithic brand, with secure patents, for fifteen years.”

Fassfelder picked up the handout and looked it over. “Trying to fix all the mistakes of the past, I see? Well, if there are any holes in this, I will be sure to have my lawyers let you know so you can fix them. Director-driven properties have been working very well for us in the Twenty-First Century, and I intend to see it remain so.”

With a massive grin, Ellen calmed herself, before pulling out a separate document. “This...I don’t want it to be a condition of the first deal. If you don’t agree, then the deal is still intact. But, if you are willing, I would like to buy back the copyright design, names, and related features that specifically involve Celestia and Luna, to do with as I wish.” She cautiously presented the much more detailed document to Fassfelder.

The company president looked down curiously at the new document. “They were the original rulers of the Equestria setting, yes? Do they even need to be in the Friendship Is Magic setting at all?”

“Yes,” Ellen said earnestly. “They tie our brand together, and they show a transition from a war-torn country to a land of peace, and...well, as one of their creators, I would like to give them a chance to rule a peaceful Equestria, side by side. I’ve developed complete personality profiles for both of them in the new environment.”

“So that would be the start,” said Mrs. Golden, pulling a copy of this document over for her perusal. “The redemption of Nightmare Moon?”

“After a hundred years of exile, she returns to a land of love and joy. I could either run that as the first PonyGameCon showcase in... a long time, or it could be the first module. The group of players has to become friends as they find Nightmare Moon, with Celestia missing to keep her from intervening, and they find that friendship is a more powerful force than they thought, reverting Nightmare Moon to Princess Luna.” As Ellen speaks, she toyed with a bracelet of blue stones and silver that looked well worn, her expression inscrutable.

“First adventure,” Fassfelder said decisively. “Not included in the box, so not to force the players into the path of being known to the rulers of the land from the very start, but recommended, perhaps as a sort of ‘difficulty boost’. After all, if you helped the Princess reunite with her beloved sister, that sets up the party for all kinds of quests…”

“They might even have to chase off some marauding dragons,” suggested Golden.

“No,” said Fassfelder. “One dragon. Who’s sleeping in a mountain cavern and making a noxious smoke that drifts over the nearby town. Much more open to non-violent solutions.”

“Sure, definitely,” said Ellen, writing this all down. “This all works excellently. We could even include dragons in a later expansion. After all, the whole problem with dragons was involving them in combat, so I can imagine having them on equal footing with ponies. So...are both deals a go, then?”

Fassfelder continued paging through the “Princess Agreement”. “N...no, this isn’t right,” she said after a few seconds. “It’s the matter of—”

“Yes?” asked Ellen.

“Your...eyes. For a moment, I thought I saw...never mind.”

Ellen quickly looked down at the paperwork, as she listened.

“Anyway, it’s this part here: one hundred years between Nightmare Moon’s banishment and her return. It’s entirely too quick for the kind of societal transformation necessary to get from the old combat-centered world to the world of friendship that you...that we are aiming for. I mean, unless Princess Celestia is some kind of devious manipulator who is forcing society to go in her planned direction whether they like it or not…?”

Ms. Powell bit her lip, still staring at her paperwork, struggling to come up with some counter argument or rebuttal. Finally, she gave in. “Okay... However I would then like to write errata, extensive errata, covering the time between P&D and FiM. Showing the development of society, adding history for PH’s to use, and so on. This would include bringing back old enemies from P&D, and reshaping them for future releases.”

“Agreed!” Fassfelder said with a smile. She flipped to the last page, picked up her oversized “signing pen” and added the words “Errata to follow covering the period elapsed between Second and Fourth Editions” as she said them out loud. “We can just pretend that Third Edition never happened,” she added with a wicked grin. She then flipped back a few pages. “And we’ll correct the interregnum of one hundred years to...one thousand.” The pen loudly squeaked as the correction was made.

Ellen winced.

“Any objections from the Board?”

“All in favor of the twin motions?” asked the Board’s secretary. A few seconds later she announced. “Both motions pass unanimously.”

“And so it is done,” Ms. Fassfelder said, signing both documents. “Welcome to the Fashion Pro family, Ms. Powell. And may your time here be a happy one.”

Ellen bowed slightly as she gathered her copies of the documents. She mustered a genuine smile, looking out across the room. “Thank you. All of you. My goal isn’t to make us all rich, but I promise, this will do better than the fractured system in place now. Have a good day.”

“And the same to you!” Fassfelder said warmly, standing and waiting until Ellen had taken the elevator down to the ground floor.

“So?” asked Golden.

“You were right,” Fassfelder said with an incredulous shake of her head. “You were absolutely right—this is far better than anything we could come up with in-house. The game is guaranteed to garner customers based on nostalgia alone—the masses who actually watched that wretched Power Morpher movie are proof of that. But this”—she gestured at the image of the ponies still on the screen— “this could well bring in an entirely new demographic!”

“A demographic willing to buy toy versions of the sample players?”

“Undoubtedly. Except for the princesses, of course.” Fassfelder gestured to the subsidiary agreement.

“Of course,” Golden said. “For now.”

“You’ll be following her every move.”

“Of course.”

“And how long?”

“A year,” said Mrs. Golden. “In a year’s time, Friendship Is Magic will be 100% Fashion Pro controlled.”

“Excellent. I’ve always thought that Celestia would look much better in pink.”

Ellen shut her car door, and fell limp against the seat of her beat-down old car, a happy smile on her face, fighting with worry that had nagged her for the last few years, and likely wouldn’t go anywhere anytime soon. But she turned that old silver bracelet, and the smile grew.

“That didst go well, methinks,” a voice reverberated inside her head. “Although thou hast my apologies for my little mistake earlier.”

Ellen didn’t even jump.

“How could I be angry at you? That was your life at stake there... I’m sorry, I had really hoped for a hundred years...” Ellen sighed, the smile vanishing.

“You achieved my sister’s instant restoration to sanity, a prize worthy of any price. As an ageless being, what matter to me is it how long the secondary goal of our reunion takes to achieve? Besides, that just makes the return to my native land all the more interesting.” She wasn’t a very good liar.

“Is that why you found me? Despite every barrier and bridge to cross, you tunneled through reality into my head? Luna, I don’t want you to be alone for a thousand years, I—”

“It was nothing, Child, so do not worry your head about it. The School of Dream Magic is most subtle, able to make its way through any barrier, even a supposedly closed portal between worlds. Despite Tia’s desperate efforts, in the end it fell to me, because this was the one thing I am able to do better than her. No, I suppose it was more than that: I decided I was done with having others write my life for me, without hearing my input. First my sister and her subjects controlled it, then a thing that never even should have existed. And to have that succeeded by your kind. No, Ellen...Friend...the future now is ours to shape, for both our worlds. We will accomplish what even my sister was unable to do: create a better Equestria, the best possible Equestria...through ponies and people.”

“So maybe, we will have a happy ending,” Ellen sighed, looking down at the paperwork. “Finally, a happy ending to all this... Do you think Celestia would be angry? That I am rewriting all this? Starting over again? You all are still locked to the whim of the players, even if they are going to be working towards peace now...”

“Discord left us no other alternative. Our worlds are forever linked, and only the nature of that bond may be altered, not the fact of its existence. And as for endings...I’m not fond of endings. Think of it more as a new, eternally bright beginning.”

Chapter 18: At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Author's Note

For those of you wondering if she would ever arrive...

Chapter 18: At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 17: At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

They awoke early the next day; it wasn’t to the sound of the town waking up, because to be honest it seemed like it never went to sleep in the first place. The entire time they had tried to sleep, there were all manner of noises coming from outside of their alley: arguments, fights, parties, and everything in between. Needless to say, the pair was not very well rested.

Celestia got up and stretched, popping any number of unlikely joints as she did so. “It’s times like this that I really feel my age,” she muttered.

“If you felt your age, you’d be made of stone and likely immobile,” Midnight grumbled with a tiny smile as she did her best to un-cramp one of her legs.

“You evidently haven’t met that many dragons,” Celestia said, carefully checking her saddlebags to ensure she hadn’t been robbed in the past seven hours.

“You’re right. I have met exactly zero. To my knowledge you weren’t a dragon, either. Wait, were you? Did a dragon masquerade as a pony goddess? That sounds like quite the book. I could always write if being a scientist doesn’t work out.”

“It’s a little hard for a full-grown dragon to use an illusion spell to impersonate a pony,” Celestia said with a smile. “For one thing, carts and buildings would keep falling down where the invisible dragon tail was.”

Midnight looked around. “We need our cart back,” she realized.

“Right. Let’s go. Hopefully then we can afford to eat something for breakfast.”

Midnight nodded and began slowly walking towards the edge of town, head low and pace steady.

They pushed through the same green barrier as before to reach the clearing with the orc village, but a lot had changed when they were gone.

“The...the village is gone,” Celestia said simply.

It was perhaps more accurate to say that it had been pillaged and then burnt to the ground. It seemed to be a miracle that the entire Everfree hadn’t gone up in the conflagration.

“Those adventurers, well...they were adventurers. This sort of thing is their specialty. Find life that doesn’t give them things, destroy it, mark it up as an ‘experience’ and continue on their way.” Midnight kicked a charred rock, to watch it bounce along the ground.

“There’s something else,” Celestia said, scanning her surroundings carefully. “Something insane. I wonder if you notice it. I wonder sometimes, with all of the insanity around me, if I’m noticing these things because of the madness, or if I am the one who is insane.”

A dark blue hoof found its way to Hope’s back. “Shut up. You aren’t allowed to call yourself insane. So don’t say that anymore. You’re the most sane thing I have ever met. Well...my father is a very close second. You’re not insane. So...magical things, right? Besides the fact that these burn marks all have an odd magic feeling to them, that doesn’t feel like unicorn...?” Midnight’s comforting hoof moved, for her to scuff at the burned grass. “You’re not insane, so what is this?”

Celestia blinked, and then looked around her for a third time. “That’s not it, but it is interesting. Tell me, does it feel like heartburn when you scan it?”

The unicorn’s horn flickered and died out as she stuck out her tongue. “Feels like I drank acid, yes.”

“That’s dragon magic.”

Midnight sat with a thud, staring blankly in the middle distance. “So I didn’t imagine that part. Firebelle...”

Celestia sighed. “I’m afraid we lost Firebelle the moment those fiends entered the medical tent looking for a replacement for their dead leader. This is definitely not good.”

“But...she could awake when her adventurer’s spirit leaves... When she retires, right?” Midnight asked with a bare glimmer of hope. “Even if she’s been...changed...she could be herself again, right?”

Celestia didn’t honestly know enough to feel the need to crush Midnight’s hopes with cold hard facts. She only knew of the Equestrian Curse’s effect on one dragon, after all. A pony-turned-dragon might be a completely different story. “It’s certainly a possibility,” Celestia said with a small smile. “We’ll just have to bump into her and see what happens. Come on, it looks like I was right about those adventurers missing the cart.”

She walked over and pulled the intact cart out of its hiding place. Hitching herself to it, she skirted what was left of the village to lead Midnight back to Hoofington.

As she was about to enter the thick bush leading out of the Everfree, Celestia gave one last look back at the remains of the settlement. She had never learned its name, or those of any of its inhabitants. Now they were all dead, dead and vanished. Nearly two hundred living creatures had almost certainly been slaughtered, and after the deed was done...? No corpses, intact or burnt to pungent ash, no burial mound...nothing. The moment everybody stopped caring, their remains simply ceased to exist. The nondescript patch of land had become a monument to the gods’ indifference.

Celestia and Midnight re-entered the city of Hoofington. Before, they had been largely ignored. But now, with their cart full of supplies, their intent was clear, and every pair of eyes seemed to follow them.

“Do you think we need anything, or should we head straight for the Inn?” Celestia asked.

“Breakfast, followed by the application of a few more runes to the shielding, and...well, I have something else I want to do.”

Midnight led them to a small restaurant, where they were able to get a decent meal. As they watched, a pair of earth ponies in cloaks attempted to assault the owner of the establishment as a way of getting out of paying their bill, and perhaps as an easy way to establish their reputation as up-and-coming adventurers.

The pair had not counted on the fact that the owner had hired his own group of ambitious novice adventurers to act as his bodyguards. The pair were quickly defeated and thrown out, after a sizable quantity of silver coins had been extracted from them.

The patrons applauded the free show, and the guards were paid, with a bonus for not damaging the building.

#

Afterwards, Midnight sought out a small clearing and laid out the cloak with its internal metal foil. “Hope...I’d like you to sign this. Like...the way you’d sign a letter to a friend. This might just be a stupid idea but...I think I need any help I can get.”

Celestia picked up the unusual little pen in her mouth and bent down for a second. When she finished, there was a little squiggle with a clear “C”, but virtually nothing else in the signature could be clearly distinguished.

“Thanks.” Midnight looked over the scribble with a grin, before putting a few arcane symbols next to it and above it, and a final rune after it. “I’ve made this as big of a black hole for magic as I can.”

With that, she brushed a thin coat of clear liquid over the metal, gave it a few minutes to dry, and draped the cloak over her back.

“I think I am ready for the Inn.”

Celestia stepped back and shook her head. “No,” she said. “It looks too functional. I think...maybe a lightning bolt? Or a giant ‘M’? Basically, it needs to look like a costume instead of a magic item. I mean, if I was running the place, I’d be very suspicious of you right now.”

“Okay, then my backup idea would work really well.” She pulled a piece of fabric out of her bag and paused a moment, looking to Hope. “I...hope you don’t mind. I’ve sort of taken to admiring her after getting to know you.” She unrolled the silvery disc to reveal the moon.

The moon without its mare.

Tears came to Celestia’s eyes and she rushed forward to embrace the unicorn. “Thank you,” she said with a choking voice.

“I saw your name on Firebelle’s sheet,” Midnight said around the hug. “I know what that means, despite how absurd it seems to me, but if I ever find my sheet, I hope it says Luna in that little box. Because it’s a crying shame that nopony remembers the her that you knew. The one that my...well, that my only friend loves.” She laid out the moon on the cloak’s back and put careful stitches around the edges, to hold it in place. “There. I think it’s ready.”

“It looks beautiful,” said Celestia.

They stood before the front door. “There is no more worthy cause than one taken up in faith,” the sign above it read, “and no more worthy death than one against the forces of Evil.”

Celestia sucked in her breath. “I’m not overly fond of ponyfying abstract concepts,” she noted. “Although the Nightmare comes pretty darn close.” She looked up at the towering multistory building, easily the largest in the town. “They’re...they’re all looking down. So many gods…” She closed her eyes, and stilled her growing panic with a soft exhalation. “Alright, time to live up to our appointed roles.” After unhitching from the cart, she walked up to the door and opened it. “After you.”

Midnight hesitated at the doorframe, before looking to Hope. “No matter what happens...my name is Midnight, and you are my friend.”

Then the unicorn stepped inside.

An old gray unicorn waited behind a counter, a small placard identifying him as “Mr. Silver”. “Midnight Sparkle,” he intoned. “You have been expected.” A beam of magic shot out from his horn and quickly scanned over her.

Midnight had expected this: the magical scan to confirm that she hadn’t been using healing potions, or breaking any of the other rules that Firebelle had told her. But there was definitely an additional component to the spell washing over to her that she could not recognize, other than to be fairly certain that it was not meant to be harmful, whatever it was.

“You have passed the initial inspection,” Mr. Silver said, applying a small rubber stamp to the bright white piece of paper which lay before him.

“Ominous and strangely appealing. Do go on,” Midnight said as she stepped up to look at the paper. She also knew what this document had to be, and she was eager to finally see what it had to say about her.

“Your noble rank carries no privileges within these walls,” the stallion told her, his eyes tracing over the words on Midnight’s record sheet. “Where is your retainer?”

Hope quickly stepped forward, her head bowed. “That would be me, Your Grace.”

“Yes, yes,” the stallion said, scanning over the sheet. “Go outside and put away your mistresses’ belongings. We have a place reserved for you in the stable.” He looked up at Midnight before she could make an objection. “It’s a well-furnished room with heating,” he explained. “But, as a non-candidate, she must remain outside for the duration.”

Midnight hissed an intake of breath through her teeth before looking to Hope and nodding briskly. “I will do my best to come see you at the soonest opportunity.”

“Of course, Mistress,” Hope said, fully in character. She turned to leave.

“Now, there’s the little manner of your religion,” the stallion said, already acting like Hope had left the building. “It appears to be—”

“Undecided,” Hope said quickly. “She hasn’t decided yet.”

The stallion looked back and forth from the superfluous earth pony mare to the unicorn. “Is this true?” he asked.

Midnight looked cautiously at Hope for a few seconds before responding. “My religion is currently undecided, that is true. I once thought I had it all sorted, but...well, I have had to call it all into question lately.”

“Look, it’s a tiny little box,” the annoyed stallion said. “I have no room for explanations. We’ll just leave it blank.”

She took the moment to finally look down at the sheet. The Personal History section was more interested in her father than in her, describing her reason for going to the Inn as “academic curiosity”. She had no idea why anypony would be interested in that thing she could do with her right hind hoof, but nonetheless, there it was under “Special Abilities”. At least that was accorded lesser importance than her scientific skills.

Satisfied by her inspection, she looked up at Mr. Silver. “Is there anything else needed, or should I go ahead and...” She looked over at the rest of the building. “...Sit?”

The stallion slapped a key on the table. Attached to it was a large wooden tag with the number “236” on it. “Here’s your room. You’ll find a few...are you still here?”

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Hope said, tugging on her forelock. She turned and walked out of the building, taking a good deal of Midnight’s confidence with her.

“Now then,” Mr. Silver continued. “You’ll find a few orientation materials up there, so don’t bother asking me any questions that they’ll just answer for you.” He slid the sheet over to her. “Don’t lose this, or it will cost you ten bits to print up a new one.”

“Print...okay...” She took it, frowned at the stallion, and began walking into the Inn, to get a better look at the place.

The first floor was mostly taken up by a large open area around a central fireplace. Cushions and chairs surrounded it at various distances. Against the far walls were a series of booths, some small, others large enough to host a party of dozens. The booths all had doors that could be closed for privacy. At this time of morning, the space was mostly deserted. A couple of ponies were laid out asleep across a pair of pillows, and the fire was nearly dead. At the back of the room was a pair of double doors. Closer to the entrance was a pair of grand wooden staircases leading to the second—and possibly higher—floors.

Midnight sighed as she trotted through the place, looking at the nametags next to each booth before heading up the spiral stairs, wincing as her cape crinkled quietly.

“Come on...there should be a surge of magic...” she whispered.

She didn’t feel anything unusual. She couldn’t even feel all of the “gods” that Celestia was talking about outside. The place seemed normal. It kinda reminded her of Uncle Blueblood’s place in the morning after one of his over-the-top parties.

“Well... ‘Welcome to my den,’ said the spider to the fly...” she sighed, as she found the numbered rooms and made her way to 236, passing by several unicorn maids with their carts full of carefully compartmentalized clean and dirty linen. She slowed down as she overheard one of them being reprimanded by her mustachioed earth pony superior.

“There’s a reason why we have the pamphlets in two different bins!” the supervisor exclaimed. “These are for new ponies, and those are for new players!”

“New what?” asked the obviously new maid.

“The lists! Refer to the lists! Being able to read was one of the requirements for this job! Now we have to go back and reclaim all the pamphlets that ponies aren’t supposed to read yet!”

Midnight sped up to get to Room 236. She let herself in with her key and quickly examined the two piles of paper on her bed. The folded sheet on one pile had “Welcome to the Inn of the Prancing Pony” as its title, while the top pamphlet on the other pile had the title “Welcome to Your New Character”. Without a moment’s hesitation, she rapidly swept the second pile onto the floor and then out of sight. Once that was accomplished, she walked back out to stand in front of her door.

“Excuse me, Ma’am,” the supervisor addressed her. “We need to fix something in your room. To maximize the comfort of your stay.”

“Of course,” Midnight said calmly, using a hoof to swing the door open.

The supervisor peered in, and stared at the single pile of pamphlets on the bed for quite some time.

“Were you going to come in?” Midnight asked innocently.

“...No, it appears that this room was fixed up already.” He bowed low to the ground. “I’m sorry for taking up your time.”

“Oh, don’t mention it,” Midnight said with a grin, waving while she watched the stallion walk down to another door and knock on it. She turned to look at the number plate on the front door of her room, and frowned.

“236. Two times three is six,” she told herself. “I doubt that matters, but pattern recognition is a key to memorization, maybe I can tie that into a spell to prevent the removal of memories. What do you thin—?”

She looked to the side, to the empty space where Hope had been over the last few days, turned back to the door, and walked in to finally get a good look at the place she was going to stay.

You know, for an inn room, this looks pretty nice, even under the bed! she thought to herself as she retrieved the hidden cache of pamphlets. Now for a little light reading...

Celestia emerged from the room she had been issued in the stable. She pondered a moment, trying to decide what she could do next. Trying to re-enter the Inn was out of the question, so she’d have to wait for Midnight to seek her out before she could learn anything new from that source. In the meantime…

The door next to Celestia’s opened after a few seconds of knocking to reveal a small red earth pony stallion with a blonde mane. “Well?” he asked with a slight drawl.

“Hi,” said Celestia brightly, holding out a hoof for a shake. “My name is Hope Springs, and I just got here with my mistress. It looks like you’re my new neighbor.”

The stallion leaned out of the room and looked over at Hope’s open door. “Yes, it would appear so,” he said. He accepted Hope’s hoofshake. “I’m Sorrel. My sister Chestnut and I just arrived in Hoofington this morning.”

“Is she applying to be an adventurer?” asked Hope.

“Yes, that’s right,” said Sorrel. “I’ll be heading back home tomorrow, but my sister got the management to put me up for a night to recover.”

It was at that point that Celestia noticed the partially healed scars on the stallion’s coat. “Oh!” she exclaimed. “You need healing. I’ve got some potions that we didn’t use. Let me go get them.”

“Much obliged, Miss,” Sorrel said with some degree of surprise at the unwarranted display of generosity. “You’re sure no adventurer,” he said under his breath.

Midnight came downstairs, a variety of pamphlets floating in her magic. She started walking towards the front door.

“You’re not seriously going to take those outside, are you?” the dour stallion at the front desk asked.

Midnight stopped, waving one of them. “’Common Weapons and You: An Illustrated Guide’,” she read aloud. “Hardly state secrets, I would think.”

The stallion sighed. “It’s the tone, Ms. Sparkle. Those materials are written from an Insider’s point of view.” He gestured outside. “Nobody out there is going to understand that.”

“You mean nopony,” Midnight corrected. “When referring to a subject or subjects known to be a pony, as Hope is, nopony is the proper term. Am I allowed to take them out, or do I need to memorize the contents and do it that way, good sir?” She asked in the most endearingly sweet tone possible.

“You’re beginning to sound like your servant, Ma’am,” the stallion said disapprovingly. “And, if you had read the top pamphlet first, you’d know that your player will be able to take the pamphlets outside—or burn them, for all I care—but you cannot.”

An icy chill ran through Midnight’s veins, but she nodded, swallowing to clear something that suddenly hampered her breathing. “Right. Well, can I leave them with you while I go out to converse with my servant, then?”

“Yes, yes, of course.”

She dropped them in a neat stack on his desk, and trotted slowly out the door.

The stable was a smaller red building attached to the blue building that was the Inn. Other than having straw on the floor, it didn’t really look all that different. Like the Inn, there was a front desk. This one was ponied by a large earth pony mare. She had a large loose-leaf binder in front of her, from which she was constantly flipping back and forth. A small sign announced that her name was “Mrs. Cabinet”.

Midnight approached slowly, not sure if she was even allowed out here.

“Excuse me. Is Hope available? I’d like to speak with her.”

Mrs. Cabinet looked up and adjusted her spectacles. “Name, please?” she asked.

It was a bit of relief to Midnight to not be dealing with another mind-reading pony—or whatever trick it was that the stallion at the Inn had used on her. “Midnight Sparkle.”

Mrs. Cabinet flipped through her book. “Hope Springs. List of allowed visitors. Ah yes, Midnight Sparkle. Have you got your sheet?”

The one piece of paper she had tucked under her robe. She slipped it out and provided it to the clerk. The only reason she had it on her was that she didn’t trust the Inn’s doorman not to write on it while she was gone.

“Ah, yes...good.” The earth pony slid the paper back to Midnight. “I imagine you’ve already read the applicable pamphlet, but this is basically your only form of identification while you’re here. Miss Springs is probably still in her room, which is the same number as yours, and will open to the same key. She didn’t mention anything about being hungry, but our common area is out back if you don’t find her in her room.”

“Thank you.” Midnight nodded and continued into the structure proper, mumbling “two times three is six” once or twice before finding and knocking on the door.

“Who is it?” asked Hope’s voice from within.

“Midnight. Sorry to be disturbing you.”

The door quickly opened. “Come in, come in,” the tan earth pony urged her.

Once she was inside, Hope closed and locked the door. Midnight had the chance to see that the room, although not as well apportioned as her own room, was still better than the average earth pony could expect to see in her experience.

“So,” Hope said. “What have you learned so far?”

“I’ve only just started,” Midnight replied. “But I’ve already managed to pick up the fact that we’re going to have to wait a day or two. That’s when the convention starts.”

Hope’s jaw dropped. “S...say that again. Why we have to wait.”

“There’s a convention. Really big thing, apparently. Sponsoring companies and nationwide coverage and to be honest, I don’t know what half of those words mean,” she said, almost laughing. “It seems to me like they are throwing a bunch of words together into a sales pitch.”

Hope just stared at her. “Midnight, I’m not hearing those words. Whenever you try to say them, nothing is coming out of your mouth. At least, that’s what I’m hearing.”

“That’s what he meant!” Midnight gasped. “The doorman, he said that the information is written from a certain perspective, from the perspective of...well, I’m going to call them adventurer spirits because I know that word works. So...these words are part of their language. Not ours. I wonder if I can write them—oh look at this!”

She pulled her sheet out and showed it to Hope, while looking around for writing utensils. Hope examined it, and then flipped it, and flipped it again. The second flip seemed jerky to the unicorn, like somepony else was moving Hope’s hoof. “Still can’t see the other side,” she remarked. “Oh look, I’m still a ‘q.v.’”

“Well, I consider you more important than some initials...this will work.”

She took a charcoal lump from the small fireplace and moved to the table, writing out “CONVENTION” in clear block letters.

“There, see if you can read that.”

“Read what?”

“Here, right here, let me underline it...”

“OK, so eight or ten letters long, I’m guessing?”

“Yes...can you not see it? This is astounding! Such a filter...clearing the perception from any word or phrase...imagine the energy required!” Midnight stared down at the word, wide eyed. “Undetectable too...oh!”

She tried taking her cloak off and pressing it down over the word, before quickly removing it.

“Anything?”

Hope leaned forward and examined the table top. “Hhck...hkavawrn. Yes, I think that’s it...and it faded. Congratulations: you can apparently speak and write the language of the gods now, and don’t even know it.”

Chapter 36: You Are In a Maze of Twisty Little Passages, All Alike

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 36: You Are In a Maze of Twisty Little Passages, All Alike

The party of adventurers reached the bottom of the nine-story staircase, to emerge into a short east-west corridor. The stairs were to the east. To the north, a cavern opened up. It was the source of an unpleasant odor. To the south was another passage.

Torn Deck looked down at his map. “Celestia said that the ‘pig creatures’ were that way,” he said quietly, gesturing to the north.

“Troglodytes,” Burnished Lore said with authority. “I suppose we could try sneaking past them.”

“Aww, do we have to?” asked Choss’ dragon head, which had suddenly inserted itself into the conversation. “I could take them out quite easily.”

“Well...you certainly could,” Midnight conceded, examining the map over Torn’s withers. “But my goddess, Celestia, has tasked me with trying to return as many creatures to their rightful place as possible, such as yourself. Do any of you know where these Troglodytes hail from?”

“They are not from Tartarus,” said the gorgon head. “Rather, they wandered in from the mountains to obtain a fresh supply of meat.” He put on a nasty smile as he added, “Pony meat.”

Torn Deck snorted. “I don’t think that Celestia would care if we did away with them. I mean, they are the quintessential nasty bugger.”

Torn between practicality and morals, Midnight looked to Burnished Lore. “Do you think it would do more harm than good to sneak past them and let them live?”

Burnished took in a deep breath, then exhaled. “Moral dilemma,” he said in awe. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had to deal with a moral dilemma? Cutbelt, I take back every complaint I’ve made about this adventure! As for them, we’ll give them a chance: we’ll go past them, and if they have any brains in their heads, they will have fled when this whole place comes down, as you know has got to happen after we re-open that portal to Tartarus.”

The lion head put on the most-adorable Chaotic Evil frown imaginable.

“Aw, there, there,” Torn Deck said, stroking the lion’s mane. “Save your strength, so you’ll have more to give the guy in charge of this place a piece of your mind.”

“Yeah,” said the lion head. “I like that plan.” Choss walked ahead of the others, westward.

“And what if there isn’t a guy in charge?” Burnished whispered to Torn.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” replied Torn.

#

The western passage split, into northwestern and southwestern passages.

Torn stuck his tongue out as he amended his map. “Well, the southwestern one is pointing more towards the middle, assuming that the two levels are aligned with one another.”

Burnished shrugged. “Are you alright with southwest?” he asked Midnight.

“Sure,” she replied.

“Then we can move on,” Burnished said.

“Hey wait,” Torn Deck said. “What about the other two members of our party?”

Oh! Well, Facet had been sticking to the back of the group, and Itty Bitty was somewhere...even further back.

“And Bumble?” asked Midnight.

“And Bumble what?” the breezie asked from atop Burnished’s head.

“OK, fine. Just wanted to make sure that somebody wasn’t forgetting about their retainers, like we’re not supposed to.”

Yeah, yeah, very funny.

“Tally ho!” Bumble cried, waving a tiny dagger at the southwest passage.

“I notice they didn’t bother to count me,” grumbled gorgon Choss.

#

The southwest corridor stretched forward for a few steps, then split into northern, eastern, and southern passages.

“Oh come on!” cried Torn Deck. “This is a mess! It’s...it’s like…”

An actual cave system? You should be very glad of your unnatural sense of where north is at all times, or you’d get as lost as I did.

Torn rolled his eyes. “Whatever. South!”

The southern passage immediately split into passages leading west and southeast.

“West!”

You have reached a dead end.

“Should I bother asking who you are talking to?” asked dragon Choss.

“I wouldn’t advise it,” said Bumble. “That way lies madness.”

Torn consulted his map. “This is definitely the right way,” he said, pointing at the spot on the map corresponding to where they currently were. “Any signs of a cave-in?”

No. Actually, to put that in character...

“No,” reported Facet, putting a hoof to the wall. “This is unhewn stone.” She frowned. “But it does feel...odd.”

“Alright,” said Torn, putting the map on the ground so all could see it. “let’s say that the place we are heading for is around...here.” He drew a small circle to the southwest of where they were. “And Celestia said that it was surrounded by a hexagonal passage…”

“This is where I’d have Carry On check for a secret door,” Midnight grumbled, examining the wall. “I could try blasting it...but you’d be better at raw damage than I would, Bernie.”

“Now, now, hold on,” said Burnished, “this looks like a mental puzzle.”

Torn Deck used his lips to move the tip of his pencil in circles around the postulated center room, bigger and bigger. He dropped it to point out the northwestern passage they didn’t take. “That’s got to be part of the hexagon. It continues here with the southern passage.”

“I’m...I’m alone!” exclaimed Facet, holding up her holy symbol. “I have no contact with Kelogto whatsoever!”

Midnight stepped forward and did her best to comfort Facet. “We have entered the part of this cursed place where our deities cannot see or hear us. We will have to rely on each other now. Our friendship and camaraderie.”

“Do...do you hear that?” asked Itty Bitty from the back. “It’s like hooves...but very far away.”

“I think we’ve been in this dead end long enough,” said Gorgon Choss.

“Hooves...but far away?” Midnight strained to hear what Itty Bitty was talking about, holding out a hoof to silence the others.

“How...sure...going?” “Blasted teleporters!” That was all that could be heard of the voices of ponies, quite far away.

“Are those...adventurers?” asked Burnished. He led the group out of the dead end, and looked both northwest and south. His ears pivoted about as he waited for the members of the other group to speak once more.

Facet took a few steps east, then waved Midnight over to her to show her faintly glowing holy symbol. She waved a hoof, to indicate the invisible barrier they must have just crossed.

“It’s no good,” Burnished said after a few minutes. “I can’t hear anybody else.”

“That’s because they’re just outside the barrier! Or just inside, we’re dealing with a wall between realities here, why wouldn’t there be some bleed through?” Midnight asked excitedly.

“Alright,” said Burnished with a nod. “So the next question is: shall we go around clockwise to find the next passage to penetrate this barrier, or counter-clockwise?”

Torn Deck looked down both passages. “Clockwise,” he said. “Easier for me to map.”

#

The passage south opened out into a small chamber. Within this grotto stood a huge stone idol, as tall as Celestia and very broad. It was roughly chiseled into the shape of a male alicorn with wings outspread and two curved horns instead of the usual one. An expression of utter cruelty was upon the statue’s face.

“Graze!” exclaimed gorgon Choss, bowing his head. “A representation of my lord and master!”

Midnight tried not to let her horror show too much. “Impressively...intimidating.”

Bumble in particular noticed the eyes of the idol, which glittered with the fire of inset gems. To either side of the idol were strangely shaped copper weapons. One was similar to...

“Copper! Copper, where are you?!” Luke cried out, jumping to his feet. His voice had an odd echo in the confined space of the auditorium, as if it had a second voice behind it.

Susan reached up to put a hand over Luke’s. “What happened?” she asked. “I noticed you slipping off to sleep earlier. Bit of a breezie-induced nightmare?”

“It’s all right. It’s...all...right,” Luke said slowly. He seemed to aim the words more to himself than to anybody else.

“Luke?” Gary asked cautiously as he got up.

“It...it was just a dream. About Winter…” He grimaced. “About Carry On. I...I don’t mean to add any more drama to this story than is already there.”

Mary Jo looked sympathetically over at Luke. “Look, I’m about to start introducing some new characters. You’ll be able to rejoin the others then. Until that point...don’t dream.”

The sympathy was covering quite a bit of fear. For M.J. had read those reports about players going mad and thinking they were ponies. And dreams about their characters was always how it started. There was another thing, something M.J. hadn’t really caught on to before now: it had started after the character died or was put in some other dreadful state, like petrification.

Ellen passed Luke a few sheets of information she had been writing up about Discord earlier in the day. “Read these over to keep yourself awake, let me know what you think later.”

“Um...OK,” Luke said. He dragged the sheets over to himself with a fist closed into the shape of a hoof.

As I was saying, the idol had a couple of...metallic weapons next to it. One was similar to a fauchard-fork, the other was a large sword with a wavy blade and leafed tip. Each of the weapons rested in a brass stand.

“A fauchard-fork!” Burnished exclaimed. “I love fauchard-forks! They’re like my favorite polearm.”

I said it was like a fauchard-fork. I didn’t say it was a fauchard-fork.

“So, a little glaivish, maybe?”

Maybe.

“You adventurers are weird,” commented lion Choss.

“What, some of us like our weapons,” Midnight said cheerily. She then walked a little closer to the statue, trying to examine it safely.

“But you’re talking to nobody!” lion Choss exclaimed.

At that moment, the mouth—and no other part—of the idol came to life. “Leave one magical item before me, and you may have your choice of those that others have left!”

Once these words had been spoken, a chest appeared magically under the rearing hooves of the idol. There was a grinding of stone as the statue reared even further back. The lid of the chest opened itself, revealing dozens if not hundreds of magical weapons, armor, pendants, musical instruments, potions...in short, every non-artifact magical device imaginable.

The unicorn cleric looked back at the rest of the group. “Seems like a trap to me.”

Itty Bitty had already beaten her to this conclusion, having turned and fled the moment the idol began to speak. Her panicked screams faded for a while, and then suddenly cut out.

Bumble flew straight for the open chest, followed by Torn Deck, Facet and Burnished, who began shoving each other in their greed and desire.

“Mine! Mine!” they cried.

Burnished cast a spell to electrify his coat, knocking the other two ponies out. He was then tackled by Choss.

“Stop! All of you!” Midnight shouted, trying to pull them back with her magic. “Greed is not the answer!”

“Snack break!” announced Gary, getting up and walking over to the far table.

“What?” asked M.J. “How could you call a break now?”

“Oh not for everybody,” Gary said. “Just those of us who failed our saves and went crazy. I mean, we’re not controlling our characters anymore.”

“Ah, do what you want,” M.J. said dismissively. “Midnight, the best you can do with your magic is pull back one of them. Who do you choose?”

Ellen groaned, head in hands as she thought it over. “Is Choss in there too?”

“The dragon head is resisting, but has been overpowered by the other two. You know, the ones not wearing anti-mind control headbands at the moment?”

“Right! So...I don’t have any of those headbands on me, do I? Who has them?”

“Burnished.”

Ellen looked over to Gary at the snack table and shrugged. “I grab hold of him and drag him back, so that I can grab the bands from him. Then I’m putting one on Torn Deck and one on Facet. I...don’t think I can get one on the breezie against his will, since he’d have to change size.”

“Alright, that would count as an attack roll to grab Burnished. He’s AC 2.”

Ellen groaned and covered her eyes as she rolled a die.

“...Three.” Not enough.

“So, what did I miss?” Gary asked, sitting down with a bowl full of Snickers bars.

“I don’t suppose you’re going to share any of those…?” asked Susan.

“Sorry, I’m too overwhelmed with greed,” Gary said with a smile, as he shoved a full bar into his mouth...and then started choking.

Mary Jo laughed continuously as she repeatedly slapped his back until he spat the bar out.

“...I’m not hungry anymore.”

“The crazed wizard evades your tackle. Lucky for you, he’s too obsessed to fight you.”

“Well, that’s good I suppose,” Ellen grumbles. “Can I grab at his bags?”

“Sure,” M.J. replied. “Make a Dexterity check.”

She rolled, and cheered as the die stopped. “Eight, so I grab the bags. Take out a ring, slap it on his head.”

“Not so fast! OK, first, you pull the bags off of his back and begin digging. ‘No!’ Burnished cries as he turns to face you. ‘I need to trade my Wand of Magic Detection for a Wand of Polymorph Other, so I can fulfil my lifelong dream of becoming a pegasus on my left side and a unicorn on my right!’”

“OK, first of all, I do not sound like that!” Gary protested at his wife’s impersonation. “And secondly...when did you read my Uncle Bernie fanfic?”

The audience laughed.

“And then,” M.J. continued, “since he’s heading right for you, it’s easy for you to put the circlet on his head. ‘What...what happened?’ he asks. ‘What happened to the Inn?’”

“Um, Dear…” Gary asked gently. “Doesn’t the anti-mind control band mean that I’ve got control of my character again?”

“Not...exactly,” said Mary Jo. “It’s a bit of new rule.”

Luke looked up from his paperwork. “What new rule?”

“P.H. ruling, just...we will address it later,” Ellen said with a hopeful smile.

“No, I want to know what you’re doing with my character,” Gary said, pushing the bowl of Snickers aside for dramatic emphasis.

“You...kinda lost him,” said M.J.

“To who?”

“To Burnished Lore.”

“But I’m Burnished Lore!”

“No, you’re Gary Powell. I’m talking about the original Burnished Lore, the one who was running around all the time when you and I weren’t controlling him.”

Gary stared at M.J. for several seconds. “Fine,” he said with a false degree of calm. “It’s part of the performance. Fine! I’m having some more snacks!” He got up and stalked over to the back table. Then he walked back, dramatically knocked over his chair, and returned to the snack table.

Everyone stared at the toppled chair for a few seconds.

“Dear Diary... Today I got Gary on camera knocking over his chair. Jackpot,” Ellen said jokingly.

Up in the stands, Dorothy Reichart was filling page after page in her notebook with notes.

“The other three charmed adventurers have reached the chest,” M.J. said, “and are fighting over who gets to put a magical item into it. The contents of the chest are glowing brighter and brighter… Burnished looks around him, and then casts his personal Sleep spell, which as Gary should remember—since he wrote it—has a more powerful effect at the cost of affecting the caster and only affecting mammals. Save vs. Spells at minus 4.”

The Pony Handler made several rolls. “Torn Deck’s out, Bumble’s out, Burnished is out, Facet is out, the gorgon and lion heads are out...Ellen?”

“Ellen is... Err, Midnight is out,” she declared with a shrug. “Not the worst thing that could happen.”

“Right, so that means the only one of you still awake, is Dragon Choss. ‘You...you knocked yourself out?’ he asks. ‘That’s just nuts!’ He reaches down and picks up the circlet from off of Burnished’s head with its mouth, and transfers it to a wingtip. ‘Alright, who’s in charge here!’ he cries out. ‘Step forward so I can fix you!’ He tries to look around him, but the increasing glare from the chest is becoming blinding. ‘Enough of that!’ he cries, using his other wing to close the chest. ‘Ah, there, that’s better,’ he says. ‘Now then...hey, where’d that statue go? I didn’t see it move. It opened the chest, and then...it sort of faded away. Aha!’ he cries, as he wheels about and blows a stream of fire towards the exit of the cavern. The flames bend around the figure of an invisible pony blocking the way out. ‘Alright, alright,’ the dragon says, unnerved by the figure steadily advancing towards him through his flames. ‘Living stone pony...not a giant, giants can’t go invisible...not an elemental, or we’d be dead already...golem? Yes, golem!’ The red-glowing adversary swings its head towards Choss, who pivots so the blow harmlessly strikes the inert gorgon head. ‘You’re nothing but a command! So that means...’ The two wings are used to place the anti-mind control band upon the golem’s head, causing it to freeze, then vibrate, and finally collapse into rubble.”

Ellen, having been listening with an expression of awe, clapped happily at the defeat of the golem. “Bravo, Chossy!”

“The dragon head bows to the nearest wall. ‘I imagine you saw all that, invisible adventurer voice,’ he comments. ‘If I can’t have treasure, at least I can have glory.’ He stands there for a few seconds, basking in the imaginary praise. ‘And...now I’m bored,’ he says. He picks up the anti-mind control circlet, and puts it on the head of the nearest adventurer, who happens to be Facet. ‘Oh, what happened?’ she asks. ‘You were even more adventure-y than usual,’ he comments. He next uses the band on his fellow heads. It’s at this point that the rest of you can try to resist the Sleep spell—try another save vs. spells to wake up. No negative modifier.”

Susan sat up and rolled a 20-sided die. “Torn Deck’s still out.”

“Bumble’s still out,” reported M.J. Seeing that Gary wasn’t back, she rolled for him. “And so is Burnished.”

“Midnight wakes up!” Ellen said as she rolled and scooted her seat in, looking around to see that Gary was still standing at the back table, talking to Alexia.

“‘Wake up!’ Dragon Choss cries, putting the circlet back on Burnished’s head. ‘I’m back!’ Burnished declares, sitting up. ‘Now who needs to know something? That’s usually why you call me for anything.’ Dragon tries to put the circlet on Bumble, but fails his save against Euclidian Geometry. He then goes to Torn Deck and—”

“Can I please try to wake up again, before Choss gets to me?” Susan begged. “I don’t want to spend the rest of the game at the snack table.”

“Have you got a good in-game reason?”

“I...I uh...I use my earth pony vitality!”

Ellen giggled.

“Alright,” said M.J. “I’ll give you a plus two adjustment.”

“Come on...thirteen, lucky thirteen…One! Yes!”

“I guess you’re awake,” Mary Jo said with a smile.

“I go over to Bumble,” said Susan, “and turn his little transformation bracelet.”

“Wait, that can’t work, can it?” asked Gary.

“You’re not even at our table anymore, bystander!” teased Luke.

“It does work,” said M.J., “and has the side effect of waking Bumble up. ‘What did I miss?’ he asks. ‘Me being awesome!’ Dragon replies. ‘Ha! I don’t believe you,’ says Lion. (Yeah, I’ve gotten bored enough to call Choss’s heads by the species names now.)”

“‘What kind of magic is that?!’ Burnished asks, examining the legband around Pegasus Bumble. The shifting of his head causes him to notice the circlet. ‘And what is this?’ he asks, taking off the circlet with his wing to get a closer look at it.”

Gary raced back to the table. “Make him save vs. spells, or I take him over again!”

“Go mind-control-Gary!” Ellen said cheerfully.

“Five,” M.J. said, briefly raising her shield to show the die to Gary. “You can try again in an hour.”

Gary sulked back to the snack table. “If I have a candy-induced heart attack in the next hour, it’s all your fault!” he said facetiously.

Preface

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

A Fictive Reimagining of the Early Monarchy

By L. P.

(Edited by McPoodle and Hope)

Preface

The story you are about to read is a work of fiction.

I wouldn’t have to point this out if I was writing for an audience of my fellow ponies.

Back in Equestria, the period immediately following the banishment of Nightmare Moon is a period of intense interest to both scholars and layponies alike. Sociologists use it to seek out the mythical “base state” of pony society, the way it supposedly would be under minimal influence from the Princesses. To the general public, it is the setting of A Mare Forsaken, the oldest play still considered part of the classical repertoire.

It goes without saying that it is an era of which I have no first-hoof knowledge. It is also not an era that the main character in these proceedings is prepared to discuss at length, for reasons that I hope should be obvious.

My interest—besides the familial—rests on the idea of how a civilization may be rebuilt, how such a rebuilding may in fact be justified, when the fall is not the work of a mad god or a schizoid populace, but rather a natural response to a justifiable act: what if Princess Celestia, instead of slogging through her loss like she actually did, instead did what any normal pony would do in her situation...and gave up?

—L. P.

Author's Note

As the description of this story indicates, this is both a prequel and a sequel to “The Best of All Possible Worlds”. It is a prequel in that it takes place right after the banishment of Nightmare Moon, and thus seven centuries before that story. But it is also a sequel, in that it is being written by a pony, and you might find reading “Parade Coverage” useful to understanding this pony’s thought processes. Now the last time I let an Equestrian borrow my account to post a story, that pony author wished to remain anonymous; but this time, I am the one who is insisting that the author not reveal herself—even though I imagine a fair number of you have already guessed her identity. My reason is to try to delay as long as possible the backlash from the pony press that I’m certain will break out when the knowledge that this individual is writing a fictional story about Princess Celestia becomes widespread—the inevitable speculation that anything said or done with the character of Celestia in this story is in some way an expression of opinion or wish-fulfillment regarding the actual Princess Celestia. Therefore, I ask that anybody commenting on this story please refrain from using the author’s name or her job title, at least until the Canterlot Clarion or some other rag reveals her identity.

If you are willing to accept this restriction, then in return I will allow the author to use my account to reply to any comments that she wishes. Basically, unless you see the text in orange, you should assume that it’s the author and not I (McPoodle) doing the talking.

I understand that excessive role-playing has been found to be bad for the long-term health of this site’s server, and so I will impose two rules that I hope will keep me out of trouble with the admins: no asking the author questions about any subject outside of the story, and no multiple-comment conversations (that rule will be up to me to enforce, obviously, by restraining from the temptation to reply to really good replies).

Oh, and the author has informed me that she’s interested in using my blog to post occasional essays on topics that interest her. I’ll tentatively let this go forward, pending reader interest. This means that the majority of blogs linked to this story are more about the author than about the story (and of course the same no role-playing rules will apply to them as well). Let me know if that bugs you, and I’ll stop.

Chapter 2: Transfiguration and Descent

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 2: Transfiguration and Descent

Celestia felt like she was on the bottom of an ocean deeper than the Canterhorn was high. Somehow, she didn’t need to breathe. No, the only thing that bothered her was the weight, keeping her forever entombed beneath the waves.

It felt sort of peaceful, actually. The barnacles had begun to convert her into a castle, and that fact genuinely amused her: that she could be a kingdom instead of being responsible for one.

No! a voice from above demanded. You are not giving up so easily. It cheapens my defeat for you to fall to a menace so paltry. Wake up! Wake up, I demand it!

Celestia tried to stir. “Luna...?” she said weakly, struggling to get the words out past the incredible pressure on her lungs.

If I am to be the Lady of Nightmares, surely I can end them as well! Why will you not wake?! Is it...of course! The black-hearted fiends have crafted their curse to match your form. But you are cleverer than that, Sister, we know it! Use your mind where your body has failed you. Or do you wish your Equestria to remain under their corrupting sway?

“N...nnno!” Celestia cried. She reached out with her magic, and metaphorically wrestled with the spell keeping her in an eternal slumber. The spell was locked onto her form as an alicorn, it seemed, but the Sisters had a secret trick for when being an alicorn was more than they could stand. In an instant, Celestia’s wings disappeared, and she was now a unicorn. The weight holding her down was gone.

Celestia surged upwards, closer and closer to wakefulness. But then she was buffeted back. The spell had adjusted, and was now able to subdue her altered form. Quickly she fell, and her mind began to black out.

“No!” Celestia cried, “I can’t! I have to save...my...”

For just the briefest moment, she lost consciousness, but then suddenly, she was free.

Her horn was gone. Celestia looked now like an earth pony, but she wasn’t even that. All of her magic was locked away, where the sleeping curse could not see it. And that was what it took to hide her.

Celestia slowly, achingly rose to her feet. Only by locking her knees was she able to prevent falling back down again. She felt weaker than a newborn foal.

Inside her, deep down, she felt the wellspring of her magic. Magic that made her the rival of any single creature in Equestria. But she couldn’t touch a drop of it, or she would be put to sleep once more and this time, she might never awaken.

She noticed that it was dark. And damp. And the air around her was very stale. She very much wished she could light her horn. Or have a horn, for that matter.

Slowly, deliberately, she walked forward. It was only two steps before she bumped into a wall. Turning to her right, she began to follow it, tapping at it every few strides with her hoof. Several minutes later, she reached a point where the soft loam was suddenly replaced by solid rock.

Searching around, she discovered the edge of the rock, and traced its contours. It was a large boulder, and it was blocking the entrance to the cave that she found herself in. She leaned her body against it, and slowly began to push.

If she had access to her earth pony magic, she might have been able to dislodge that boulder in a matter of seconds. Instead minute after minute built up, as perspiration streamed down her face. The air around her became fetid, and the dirt she was pushing her hooves against seemed to be turning into mud.

After more than a half hour, she stepped back, her breath coming in gasps. The rock had not budged. Physical force had failed her.

But this realization reminded her of her dream, of the voice of Nightmare Moon. She could not call on the magic of the earth ponies, but what about their knowledge?

Slowly, carefully, she ran her forehooves over every minute crack and chipped spot in the invisible barrier before her. She felt around the edge as high as she could reach...and that’s when it came to her. An object this big had a center of gravity above her head. And that meant it could be moved...with the proper application of force.

She began digging around the bottom edges of the boulder. As she did so, she constantly tested whether or not she could move the stone. Long minutes later, she heard a nearly silent sigh as the rock settled downward, allowing air into the cave from its top edge. Thus encouraged, she redoubled her work.

Nearly an hour later, the rock finally rolled away. Several moments passed. And then a bone-tired Celestia fell out of the cave, and into the world once more. It was nighttime, and the Nightmare’s moon looked down on her.

Celestia didn’t bother to look back up at it.

After lying motionless for some time, she crawled more than walked to the sound of burbling water. She dunked her entire head in, and took a long drink.

A few seconds later, her stomach had rejected most of it.

It took the greater part of two days for Celestia to recover enough to even think straight again. The first thing she realized was that she had been placed in Kammy’s old cave.

Celestia’s second discovery came when she bothered to lift her head to look up at the source of her drinking water. It was a marble fountain, and its back wall depicted in relief a group of valiant pony warriors fighting off a fierce dragon. Sure enough, a carved inscription described the scene as “The Valiant Bees Defeat the Fierce Dragon.”

The dragon in the picture looked nothing like Kammy. The adventurers, on the other hand, resembled Celestia’s memories of them so well that it was obvious that they must have posed for it.

There were a variety of coins at the bottom of the fountain. Curious, Celestia dug some of them out. There were crude circles of iron, copper and silver, but nothing like the regularly minted bit of the Sisters’ reign. She wondered what nature of pony would come up to this desolate mountain peak, just to drop a few coins for luck. She decided her need was not great enough to betray their hopes, and allowed the coins to drop back down beneath the waters.

The pony looked around her. She saw clear signs that this was a rest stop: the operating fountain, and the cultivated grasses—not especially tasty, but nutritious enough for a needy traveler. There was one thing, though, that Celestia failed to see. Something she knew that no tourist destination was ever without. So she walked around to the back of the fountain...

...and there found the expected collection of graffiti.

“You are going to have to do a lot better than that if you expect immortality, old bean,” one neatly-painted message said. It was signed with the cutie mark of a walking cane draped with what looked like moss.

A second message was in the form of a rebus. Two dragon heads (complete with x’ed out eyes and lolling tongues) and a similarly adorned troll’s head was followed by a round red beet and the word “THAT!”. This was signed with a blue and yellow circular disk, the two colors combined in a swirl pattern. There was commentary on this message in another color ink: one dragon head was crossed out and marked as “dead when she got there”, and the troll head was annotated as “NOT dead, and came back for revenge”. This was backed up by the symbol of a tombstone painted next to the original author’s cutie mark.

Another, anonymous graffito read “I will be the best, like no one ever was.” Many, many later artists defaced this particular motto.

Finally, there was one message off in a corner. “Come back, Princess. We need you.” It was signed with the bumblebee pulling the chariot cutie mark of Rigged Bee, the unicorn from earlier.

Celestia was something that Equestria had never seen before, as far as she knew: a magic-less pony. Looking at her reflection in a relatively still portion of the fountain, she saw her familiar magenta eyes, but other than those, her body was not her own. She looked like an earth pony, but with the smaller build of a bookish unicorn. She had a light tannish coat, with a pale pink mane and tail. Her hooves matched her coat. Her unique status was conveyed most obviously by her lack of a cutie mark. But she also appeared young in this form, young enough hopefully to be taken as only a year or two late in getting her mark.

She needed a new name. Looking into the bubbling fountain, she was reminded of her sister’s first page from at least a hundred years ago, a tan earth pony with a sky-blue mane. Her name was Hope Springs. Unlike the common phrase, she was not eternal; Celestia wondered if matters with Luna might have developed differently if that pony had been around to counsel her. Celestia looked up to the heavens. “Hope,” she said out loud, “I swear to do everything in my power to keep from bringing shame to the name that I am borrowing.” She bowed her head a moment in respect, and then began her descent.

Celestia found that the rough trail that once wound up the Canterhorn to the entrance of Kameneva’s cave was now a well-worn gravel path, and at the base of the mountain, it became a road. It was a road maintained only by the constant dint of hoof traffic, not any regular attempts to repair it, or to keep it from meandering and collecting potholes.

A short way down the path, Celestia reached the border of a village. She racked her memory, but could not recall any such settlement existing here, either before her retirement, or during her brief survey of the landscape before her recent slumber. She did not consider this a good sign.

A brown earth pony dressed in a rough woolen shirt and cap was tilling the soil outside of his house when he spotted Celestia approaching. In an instant, he had rushed into his cottage, leaving the garden hoe behind. “Take anything you want!” his voice cried from within. “I’ve got radishes and carrots in my fields. If you’re looking for a place to sleep, there’s a decent inn at the other end of town.”

“Sir!” she cried out, standing carefully a couple of ponylengths beyond the villager’s fence, so as not to threaten him in any way. “I’m just interested in some information. Can I ask you some questions?”

One of the window shutters slowly opened, revealing the stallion’s cautious face. He leaned over to the side for a bit, clearly angling to see Celestia’s cutie mark.

With some slight reluctance, she positioned herself so that he could see it.

To her surprise, his reaction was one of relief. “Oh, you’re one of us!” he cried. He was soon out of the cottage and leaning over the fence to get a better look at her. “Welcome to Redfern. My name is Loam Planter.”

“Hope Springs,” Celestia said, holding forth one hoof.

“A pleasure to meet you, Miss Springs,” Loam said, reaching out to gently shake her hoof. “You certainly are a rare sight. What causes you to leave whichever village you came from?” Before Celestia had even had a chance to open her mouth, the pony continued with a second question. “Or are you a refugee? I mean, Redfern won’t shut out any refugees, but if you’re the first of many, we are going to need to prepare.”

Celestia frowned inwardly. From the tone of the stallion’s words, it seemed that fleeing for your life from the destruction of your village was not only the most likely reason for one “such as her” to be travelling, but also that such destruction was a regular event.

“I am merely a traveler,” she told him, “and not fleeing from any disaster.”

“I see,” he said, nodding. “Did you go up to see the monument, then?” He gestured at the path that she had taken.

“Yes, yes I did,” she said. “I wonder if you know anything about the engraved ponies?”

“Oh,” he said, his tone turning despondent. “Sure, I know about the Bees. I’ve got a little pamphlet I pass out to all the heroes that come by to look at it. I suppose you’ll be headed for Hoofington next?”

“Hoofington?” Celestia asked in confusion, taking the crude piece of papyrus that the stallion was hoofing her. “Atop yonder peake,” she read out loud,“you will find a marker for the awesome battle between the Ponies Bee and the Dragonne of the Mountains. The marker resembles the crude image below. This is a pretty good likeness. The Bees forced the fell beast to flee her nest, never to return. A portion of her hoard was returned to a grateful populace. I see you know your Old Equestrian.”

“But of course, Miss,” Loam replied. “Heroes only truly respect commoners who know the old tongue.”

“I...” she turned the pamphlet around to make sure there was no part of it she had missed. “I see no mention of Celestia in here.”

“Well that part’s a little controversial, so we tend to leave it off of the official brochure,” Loam said, looking around to make sure that nopony was listening in on their conversation. He beckoned the other pony to come closer, after which he whispered into her ear. “Legend states that among the dragon’s hoard was a magical artifact containing the imprisoned spirit of Princess Celestia, a spirit placed there by the wicked Nightmare Moon during their cataclysmic battle. As soon as she was released, the Princess ascended to the Astral Plane, where She became the Lonely Goddess.”

Celestia leaned back incredulously. “Why is she called the Lone—”

“Ssshht!” an alarmed farmer pony exclaimed, drawing one hoof across his neck. He beckoned the visitor back within whispering range. “She’s called the Lonely Goddess because the other gods allow nopony to worship Her. It is prophesied that if She ever does get a worshipper, it will mean the end of all suffering and unfairness in Equestria.” Loam leaned back with a smile, before adding, “Or the end of the world. The two rather resemble each other, after all.”

A determined look came over Celestia’s face. “Do you have any idea where the Bees currently are? Particularly Rigged Bee. I would very much like to speak with her.”

“Wait, you don’t know?” Loam asked incredulously. “After liberating the whole of Equestria from the forces of evil several times over, the Bees grew bored with fighting the same old foes, and travelled to the strange land of the camels. There all but two of them perished while facing an endless series of trials in the Desert of Desolation. Specifically, Big Bee was turned to stone for accidentally seeing the goddess Aoris bathing in an oasis, and Zig Bee was sucked into the sands by an efreet. The fate of Hug Bee is too horrible to contemplate. Only Zag and Rigged Bee survived to tell the tale. The siblings were given a small home by the queen of the unicorns, to be cared for by a team of royally-appointed servants for the rest of their days. Zag died almost immediately, the result of a really nasty lingering curse he caught from a naga one dark and stormy night back from the very early days of their adventuring. I never heard what happened to Rigged, but she’s surely dead by now—it’s been seventy-five years since those days.”

“S...seventy-five years?” Celestia asked in disbelief, sitting down hard on her rump. The whole story sounded so fantastic to her, as she was certain that efreeti and nagas only existed in ancient ponytales.

“Oh yes,” Loam said with a smile. “Look, whatever your next steps are, you’re going to have to spend the night here in Redfern, and I’m afraid I barely have enough to support myself, so I suggest you follow me.” He walked through and locked the gate, then began taking the main road into the village, followed by a silent Celestia. As he walked, he began to rattle on. “That was in my great-grandfather’s day. Those were far different times. The heroes who come by today can only wish to reach the epic heights of the Bees. Moldy Cane’s Party of Unique Adventurers only saved Equestria twice, for example, before the lizardmen got them. Not that I have anything against Moldy Cane! He saved my life once from a rampaging pack of dire wolves. Of course, there are no woods within five days trot from here, so a pack of dire wolves showing up with no warning is really odd, but that’s the way of heroes. Moldy brushed it off as the type of random encounter he would have on any normal day.”

As they walked, Celestia noticed that the streets around her were largely deserted at first, with the occasional pony peeking out at them. Those that Loam caught looking he encouraged to come out, and soon several ponies had emerged to cautiously follow them.

“Did...did the Bees leave behind any children?” Celestia asked Loam, in hopes that they might have received any knowledge that would be useful to her.

“No,” Loam replied. “Did I forget to mention Zag Bee and the naga? That put the rest of them off of...that sort of relationship from then on.”

“Oh,” Celestia said with a shudder. She had, after all, read the stories.

“So what are your plans?” Loam asked, as he stopped before an inn. “Do you truly wish to become a hero, after all that you have heard? Rare is the heroine who ends her days as happy and comfortable as Rigged Bee. I mean, adventurer ponies, for all the good that they do, are...” He tried to think of a polite way to phrase what he had to say next, and failed. “...Touched in the head. They obsess themselves with experience. Every second of their lives, they plunge from one exciting experience to another, and when they are talking together, all they will discuss is who has had the greater experiences. It’s not normal.”

“I do not wish to become an adventurer,” Celestia replied, “only to learn more about them. You mentioned the village of Hoofington?”

“That would be city of Hoofington, Miss, clear beyond the Unicorn Kingdom and through the Everfree from here. There you will find the Inn of the Prancing Pony, where ordinary ponies become heroes. At least...that is what the heroes themselves tell me, the ones that do not prefer to rob me blind.”

Celestia shook her head. “They sound more like monsters than ponies,” she remarked.

“They stand between us mortal ponies and the gods,” Loam explained, “shielding us from Their rightful wrath. The laws of mere ponies cannot and will not apply to them.”

Celestia looked at the tiny inn before her, and tried to imagine what Hoofington’s inn might have become in the century since she had last visited it. “I...I have no money,” she said suddenly. “But I am perfectly willing to work for my pay.”

Loam Planter beamed. “You’re right, you are one of us, with an attitude like that!”

Celestia looked around her, at the several dozen ponies that were following them, stallions, mares and foals, and with a sudden chill realized what it was that united her with everypony in Redfern: not one of them had a cutie mark.

Author's Note

There's no chronological relationship between the two whatsoever, but the author accompanied this chapter with a Guest Review of the album Rumours, by Fleetwood Mac.

Chapter 46: Isolation

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Chapter 46: Isolation

In her throne room in Canterlot, Celestia, Princess of Equestria, sat in her throne. Her eyes were closed as her spirit roamed through the land.

Despite her final conversation with Ellen (and Mary Jo by proxy), she had still felt the presence of one last player in Equestria—probably Brian, playing a solo game. But eventually even he got bored.

There...yes, that’s it! Equestria is finally—

Celestia opened her eyes.

Equestria was gone.

She was floating in space, with no sign of throne, palace, Canterlot, ponies...anything. To her left was her sun. To her right was the moon, stained with the mark of the Nightmare. She turned slowly around to face the only other inhabitant of her entire universe: the stone statue of Discord.

“You!” she cried. “You were responsible all along, weren’t you? You were the one that lured that mad human here, who started this whole madness and for what? Revenge?”

“I told you that you were an usurper,” His oily voice echoed in her brain. “And that the fate of all usurpers was revolution. The players were my successors as rulers of Equestria. I gave the entire planet to them, to do with as they wished. And that sale was non-transferrable!”

“Discord!”

“Too bad you kicked them all out. With no way to contact them, there’s no way to bring your world back. If I can’t have this stupid world, then no one can.”

And then the voice of the statue stilled in Celestia’s mind, and for the first time in her life, she was truly and utterly alone.

Author's Note

So...not quite the end of the story.

Should only be one more chapter, though.

Credits & Acknowledgements

At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

Credits & Acknowledgements

The world of My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic continues to grow and evolve past the initial vision of Lauren Faust, undoubtedly into realms she could not or would not imagine it going. Nevertheless, I retain my faith that those who run the show currently are bringing it into directions I will continue to watch, enjoy, and participate in, via the writing of overly-convoluted fanfics like this one.

Second only to the show’s existence, I have to thank the efforts of my co-author, Hope, without which this story would not exist in its present form. The novel from Chapter 5 onwards was written in a series of Google Doc role-playing sessions, where Hope played out the parts of Midnight and Captain Sparkle (and her personal guard in Chapter 6), Nestoria the Valiant, Ellen Powell, Luke Gygax, Erica Gray and Alexia Reichart, and Gulrikkc the Pech, while I played everyone else.

The majority of characters in this story are either original, or real people c. 1984. The exceptions all come from the series My Little Pony: Friendship Is Magic: Princesses Celestia and Luna, Nightmare Moon, Discord, Clover the Clever, Star Swirl the Bearded, Princess Platinum, Tirek and Scorpan; the Sparkle, Blueblood and Pie families; the locations of Equestria, Baltimare, Canterlot, the Everfree Forest, the Castle of the Two Pony Sisters and Hoofington; the holidays of Hearth’s Warming Eve and Nightmare Night; and the FIM versions of unicorns, pegasi, earth ponies, dragons, griffons, timberwolves and breezies.

The title of The Inn of the Prancing Pony owes something to the seedy establishment described in The Fellowship of the Ring (1954) by J.R.R. Tolkien. The title illustration is derived from “Celestia Window”, which in turn is an element of “First Day” by harwicks-art. As a general reference, I got a lot of information about Gary Gygax and the origins of Dungeons & Dragons from the Wired article “Dungeon Master: The Life and Legacy of Gary Gygax” (David Kushner, March 10, 2008). The “Lost Caverns of Soap Candy” adventure from Chapters 23 - 44 was a thinly-disguised version of The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth, an Advanced Dungeons & Dragons module written by Gary Gygax (1982 and 1987 versions consulted).

Additional References by Chapter

Preface

* A Mare Forsaken: I was thinking something similar to the ancient Egyptian Story of Sinuhe for the plot of this play, about a court official who flees Equestria in the wake of Nightmare Moon’s banishment.

* “L. P.”: Luna, Princess, which is in the style of Queen Elizabeth’s signature of “Elizabeth R.”.

Chapter 1: Signs and Portents

* The dream: This is largely an expansion of the story of Discord’s fall told by Celestia to Voltaire in Chapter 30 of The Best of All Possible Worlds. In fact, this entire story was inspired by Celestia’s story in that chapter.

* “Come to wager your father this time?”: A cruel reference to the self-sacrifice of Celestia and Luna’s mother. See Chapter 30 of The Best of All Possible Worlds.

* Luna’s saltarello: I always think of one particular saltarello whenever I use the term, composed anonymously in Italy in the Fourteenth Century. Here’s a link to a traditional performance of it by Arany Zoltán, and here’s Corvus Corax’s version.

* Discord’s aria: This of course is “Largo al factorum” from The Barber of Seville (1816) by Gioachino Rossini. Here’s one good performance out of many. If John de Lancie ever records a version, I’ll be sure to link it here.

* Whinnychester: The fan name for the city which once surrounded the Castle of the Two Pony Sisters.

* Canterhorn: Fan name for the mountain where Canterlot Palace is situated.

* The adventurers: Rigged Bee, Big Bee, Hug Bee, Zig Bee and Zag Bee. The names were derived from those of three members of the Circle of Eight: Rigby, Bigby and Zigby. The Circle were a group of overpowered player characters created by Gary Gygax; they showed up frequently in the Dungeons & Dragons manuals.

* Foaltus: Parody of Pholtus, one of the original deities in the Greyhawk campaign setting of Dungeons & Dragons.

Chapter 2: Transfiguration and Descent

* “A walking cane draped with what looked like moss”: This was the cutie mark of Moldy Cane, a contemporary of Nestoria the Valiant. The name is a reference to Mordenkainen, which is both the name of a wizard from Finnish mythology, and one of the characters played by Gary Gygax in the original Dungeons & Dragons campaign.

* “I will be the best, like no one ever was”: As every single commenter noted, this is a reference to the Pokémon animated series (1998).

* The fate of the Bees: This was inspired by Desert of Desolation (1987), a set of D&D modules set in an analogue of ancient Egypt, which had the goal of punishing any players more interested in looting the tomb than in relieving the suffering of the neighboring villagers.

* “Experience”: In D&D, a character’s power, as in what kind of spells they can cast or how much damage they can take without dying, is measured in levels. A character starts at Level 1. Every time they defeat a monster, they are awarded a set number of experience points based on how tough the monster is. Collect enough experience points, and you are eligible to advance to the next level of power. When playing D&D, players spend roughly equal amounts of time in the following three activities: eating snacks, talking about how many experience points they need before they can go up a level (and what they need to do to get those points), and actually playing the game. Background characters are considered to be “Level 0”, with weaker skills and life force than any player.

Chapter 4: A Tale of Two Sieges (Horn’s Reach)

* Vaya Con Dios: Monsignor Martinez from King of the Hill as a D&D character. At least, that’s how he started out in my head.

* Staff of the Magi: A really-neat magical item from the First Edition Advanced Dungeon Master’s Guide (1979, Gary Gygax), page 134, that allowed you to cast all sorts of magical spells far beyond your current level. One of my characters got to have a Staff of Power back in the ‘80’s, but it wasn’t the same.

* Staff of Withering: A nasty magical item that causes the victim to get older. Also from page 134. Using a Staff of Withering on a dragon, who tends to get more powerful with age, is not a very smart idea.

* Canterday: Fan term for a day of the Equestrian week.

* Chest of Holding: Custom variant of the Bag of Holding from the Dungeon Master’s Guide, page 138.

Chapter 5: Sworn by the Horn of a Unicorn

* Queen Platinum IX: My mental image of her portrait lies somewhere between this and this.

* Midnight Sparkle’s cutie mark: Although the ends of the curved arrows resemble the alchemical symbols for arsenic, I’m pretty sure I had something else in mind. Too bad I lost my notes.

* “They had been weighed in the balances, and found wanting.”: Paraphrase of Daniel 5:27 from the Old Testament. Of course in the Bible, the one doing the weighing was God, and the consequence of that judgment was the death of a king and the overthrow of an empire.

* Kelogto, Cutbelt, Calorus and Howard: More of the original set of deities from Gary Gygax’s proto-Greyhawk campaign: Keoghtom, St. Cuthbert, Kelanen and Heward. Rule of Funny demanded that the last one be Howard.

Chapter 7: The Waggle Dance

* The title: A reference to the way that bumblebees communicate to each other the distance and direction to the nearest source of food.

* “Peeping through the knothole”: First line of the nonsense song “Go Get the Axe”. The song, or Scottish/Irish origin, is old enough to be anonymous. I first heard it in the Bugs Bunny cartoon “Hare Trigger” (1945, Friz Freling).

* Foaltus Flakes song: Paraphrase of the Crumbly Crunchies song from the Bugs Bunny cartoon “Hare Devil” (1948, Chuck Jones).

* “Ellen, Gary, Susan, Luke...and Luke”: Names of the humans we’ll meet later. Luke is repeated because he played both Zig and Zag Bee.

* “I got saved by trying to resurrect a dead goddess”: A sign that Ellen never forgot her character’s meeting with Celestia.

Chapter 8: The High Court's Sentence

* “The High Court may well sentence you to TORCHA!”: Teenagers from Outer Space (1959), as immortalized by Mystery Science Theater 3000 (1988).

* Bandit: Ye-olde version of the game Cops and Robbers. Luna was always the bandit.

* “Wait! Strike that, reverse it.”: Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory (1971, Mel Stuart).

* Uropygial gland: A feature of birds (and presumably pegasi), which produces the oil they use to preen their feathers. If you’ve ever seen a bird preening, then you know where it’s located.

Chapter 9: Poor Wand’ring Ones

* The title: Song from the Gilbert & Sullivan operette The Pirates of Penzance (1879).

* The Firefly family: Ancestors of Rainbow Dash, as established in my earlier fanfic “Secret Histories”.

* “Hooks and blowing balloons”: Has anybody ever actually used the term “hookers and blow”, except in the context of a bad movie?

Chapter 10: Cloud Cuckoo Land It Was Not

* Cloud Cuckoo Land: Taken from The Clouds by Aristophanes (423 BC), a reference to a place of idle perfection. Oh, and there’s also that bit in The Lego Movie (2013).

* Lampyra: Scientific name of the glowworm.

* The melting point of tungsten is 3695 K, about twice the melting temperature of iron.

* The Pegasus Heptarchy: The name is borrowed from the term for the period 500 - 850, when the seven rival kingdoms of Northumbria, Mercia, East Anglia, Essex, Kent, Sussex and Wessex controlled the territory of later-day England.

* “Seventeen”: On the off chance I didn’t make that obvious enough, the number of ponies over the years who tried to get what they wanted from Princess Celestia by trying to sleep with her.

Chapter 11: Border Crossing

* “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here”: Inscription over the gate to Hell, according to the Divine Comedy by Dante Alighieri (1308).

Chapter 12: Cruelty Trap

* FYI, I generated the events of the Everfree chapters by using the random terrain tables in Appendix B of the Dungeon Master’s Guide, and the random encounters table of the Fiend Folio (1980, edited by Don Turnbull) and Monster Manual (1978, Gary Gygax). Hope and I actually role-played through all encounters, using the AD&D ruleset. Hope even used her own dice, although I had to resort to the official D&D die-rolling website. (2024 update: Why would they shut down that page?)

* The monsters: Lizard Man, page 62 of the Monster Manual.

Chapter 13: Black Hooves

* The monster: Cockatrice, page 15 of the Monster Manual. Or, you know, the one that showed up in the one episode of the show...

* Celestia having a cockatrice as a pet when she was a teenager: She also wore multiple piercings and dressed in black. It was part of her rebel phase.

* “A wretched hive of scum and villainy”: Star Wars (1978, George Lucas).

Chapter 15: Everypony Should Believe in Something

* W. C. Fields (born 1880, died 1946) was an American film comedian. His on-screen persona was of a misanthrope who preferred the company of a hard drink.

* “I exercise extreme self-control. I never drink anything stronger than gin before breakfast.”: Unsourced Fields quotation.

* “Everybody’s got to believe in something. I believe I’ll have another drink.”: Unsourced Fields quotation.

* “Go away kid, you bother me.”: Some form of this phrase pops up any time Fields is stuck acting with a child.

* “Any man who hates babies and dogs can’t be all bad.”: Leo Rosten, describing Fields in Time magazine, February 27, 1939.

* “I once spent a year in Philadelphia. I think it was on a Sunday.”: Unsourced Fields quotation.

* “Whilst traveling through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew. We had to live on food and water for several days.”: Fields-written scene in My Little Chickadee (1940).

* “Never give a sucker an even break.”: Fields in an interview with Collier’s, November 28, 1925. Fields was so fond of the line that it became the title of one of his movies in 1941.

* “If at first you don’t succeed, try, try again. Then quit. No use being a damn fool about it.”: Unsourced Fields quotation.

* Dire bunny: D&D-style name for the Killer Rabbit from Monty Python and the Holy Grail (1975, Terry Gilliam & Jones).

Chapter 16: Village of the Polearms

* The monsters: Orcs, page 76 of the Monster Manual. It took me forty-five minutes to roll up that village. Of course, half of the time was spent looking up what all the different polearms were.

* All the friggin’ polearms: Gary Gygax was obsessed with polearms. He wrote about them in the Player Manual in far more detail than was necessary, and even penned a 6-page appendix about how to tell them apart in Unearthed Arcana (1985), complete with bibliography.

Chapter 17: Non-Player Character

* This chapter was really fun to role-play with Hope.

* “Lose initiative”: In D&D, there is procedure called “determining initiative” which sets who’s allowed to attack first in combat.

Chapter 17: At the Inn of the Prancing Pony

* “Something insane”: I had a good Dungeon Master when I played D&D, but the part that in retrospect I wish he didn’t do was always clean up all the bodies when we weren’t looking. It make the killing feel a lot easier.

* “There is no more worthy cause than one taken up in faith, and no more worthy death than one against the forces of Evil.”: I’m pretty sure this is my original phrasing, but it looks like the kind of thing my unconscious may have plucked out of something portentous.

* “An additional component”: This is the point where Midnight gains the ability to see the front page of her record sheet and to hear the various gaming references that Hope cannot.

* “That thing she could do with her left hind hoof”: That’s right—I never got around to using that...

* “‘Will you walk into my parlour?’ said the Spider to the Fly.’: First line of the poem “The Spider and the Fly”, by Mary Howitt (1829).

Chapter 19: Horsewords

* Pony Handler: The equivalent term in the real world is Dungeon Master.

* Mary Jo Powell: Wife of Gary Gygax (as Mary Jo Gygax), creator of Dungeons and Dragons with Dave Arneson. Just like with every other work about D&D, poor Mr. Arneson will never be mentioned again. Anyway, the point is, the human world in this story is a gender-swapped version of our own, so that means that the equivalent of D&D was created by Gary’s wife instead of by Gary himself.

* Horsewords Incorporated: This world’s equivalent to Tactical Studies Rules, Inc., or TSR.

* “Bright pink meat”: It’s salmon, if you must know.

Chapter 20: The Vital Importance of Snacking

* By this chapter, it should be pretty obvious that Sorrel and Chestnut are ancestors of the Apple family. Specifically, Sorrel has Big Macintosh’s colors (and gender), but Applejack’s build and speaking ability, and Chestnut is the opposite.

* Tin-foil hat: If you don’t know what that is, I can assure you that an Internet search on the topic will get quite interesting...

Chapter 21: The Last Day

* This chapter’s optional subtitle: Copper Plate Invents the Comic Book.

Chapter 22: A Princess in the City of Angels

* Ellen Powell: I didn’t dig into Mary Jo Gygax’s personal life, so I have no idea if she has a sister.

* Los Angeles, California: Population as of the 1980 census was 2,966,850 humans.

* Los Angeles International Airport: Owned by the city of Los Angeles.

* O’Hare International Airport: Owned by the city of Chicago, Illinois.

* U.S. Route 101 is a north-south American highway that runs from Washington state through Califorinia. In the Los Angeles area, it is one of the most-frequently congested roadways.

* Lincoln Town Car: A luxury sedan sold by the Lincoln division of the Ford Motor company from 1981 to 2011. It was one of the longest cars on the road, and one of the most common sources of stretch limousines.

* “Some girls take a bashful boy”: First line of the gender-swapped version of “Girls Just Want to Have Fun” by Cyndi Lauper (1983), one of the songs that help establish that this part of the story is set in the year 1984. I couldn’t find a cover of “Boys Just Want to Have Fun” online that I liked [before Barbie came out], but here’s a male cover of “Girls” by Chase Holfender.

* Uncle Bernie Powell: Another invented member of the Powell clan.

* Luke Gygax: Gary Gygax’s real-life brother. In the original campaign that gave birth to Dungeons and Dragons, Luke played Melf, after whom an acid arrow spell was later named. There are no Melf-inspired characters in Inn of the Prancing Pony.

* Gary Powell: This world’s version of Gary Gygax, with the personality toned down a bit. In addition, the alternate universe version is overseeing the cartoon adaptation of the game for the Marvel animation studio, just as he did in this reality.

* Ponies & Dragons: Took me long enough to drop the name. The reference is to Dungeons & Dragons (1974). In 1984, the game was known as Advanced Dungeons and Dragons, which was effectively a second edition. The actual 2nd Edition came out in 1989, the 3rd Edition in 2000, Version 3.5 in 2003, 4th Edition in 2008, and 5th Edition in 2014. I’m trying to (very roughly) match the fictional game with the generations of My Little Pony, so the year is 1984, when the 1st Generation cartoon premiered.

* Grue: A monster made popular by the interactive fiction game Zork (1977), which eats any character unfortunate enough to have their light go out in the caves. The creature was actually invented by author Jack Vance for The Eyes of the Overworld (1966) entry in his Dying Earth series.

Chapter 23: Into the Lion’s Den

* PonyGameCon: Alternate-universe version of Gen Con, North America’s largest tabletop gaming convention, founded by Gary Gygax in 1968. PGC was invented in 1974, the year Ponies & Dragons was first published.

* Katherine Lawrence: Name of an actual screenwriter for three episodes of the Dungeons & Dragons cartoon. The actual chief screenwriter for D&D was Karl Geurs. As of Halloween 1984, D&D had just completed airing its second season.

* The fourth season of Ponies & Dragons: The Dungeons & Dragons cartoon was cancelled without having a definitive final episode. Michael Reaves wrote an unproduced episode which redeemed series villain Venger, meaning that a fourth season would have introduced a new villain, or gone with an approach where a recurring villain was unneeded.

* Jonestown: The infamous mass suicide was only six years old in 1984.

* Dorothy Reichart: Maiden name of the wife of John Briley, Oscar-winning screenwriter for Gandhi (1982).

* Indira: The name of Mahatma Gandhi’s daughter-in-law, and the most-powerful woman to ever rule India.

* “The Lost Caverns of Soap Candy”: Basically the D&D module “The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth” (1984), written by Gary Gygax.

* Laura Curtis: Maiden name of Laura Hickman, who with her husband Tracy created the Ravenloft and Dragonlance settings and spinoff novels in the mid-80’s.

* Marcus Powell: Yet another fictional Powell.

* Commodore 64: 8-Bit home computer from 1982, named for its incredible 64 KB of RAM.

* Apple II: 8-Bit home computer from 1977.

* Gandalf the Gray: The Hobbit (1937) and the Lord of the Rings trilogy (1954), created by J.R.R. Tolkien.

* The members of the Young Women’s and Men’s teams: All fictional.

* Susan Blume: Her name was borrowed from Brian Blume, another member of the group that played the first ever campaign of what was to become Dungeons and Dragons. Everything else about her is fictional.

Chapter 25: Panic Control

* “Assassin’s Waltz”: The plot of this module is cobbled together from multiple sources, but the name is inspired by “The Assassin’s Knot,” by Lenard Lafofka (1983).

* “Against the Slavers”: Basically “Scourge of the Slave Lords”, a collection of four modules by various authors (1986), except, you know, written before 1984.

Chapter 26: Orientation

* “In the chaotic years following...”: This paragraph is a paraphrase of the Introduction to “The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth”, 1982 version, Booklet 1, Page 2. I worked with both the original 1982 version of the module—which had one booklet for the adventure and another for the new monsters and magical items—and with the Lost Caverns part of the 1987 compilation Realms of Horror—which had one booklet for the module, one for illustrations, and one for maps and inscriptions. I’ll reference them going forward as follows: 82B1P2 means 1982 version, Booklet 1, Page 2. The same introductory text in the other version is 87B1P56 (“Lost Caverns” begins on page 53).

* Eggswife: Iggwilv in “Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth”.

* Northern Equestria: Perrenland in Greyhawk.

* Soap Candy: Tsojcanth.

* Grazer: Graz’zt. See, converting D&D names to P&D names is easy!

* Howard’s Torch of Miracles: Daoud’s Wondrous Lanthorn. Named in the 1982 version of the introduction, but not the 1987 version.

* The Thieves’ Guild hiring the adventurers: In the original (82B1P3, 87B1P57), the party is hired by a local margrave, afraid that the powerful magical items in the recently discovered caverns might be found and used by unnamed enemies of his domain, with no mention of trying to hide these items away. Frankly, I think my version’s better.

* Members of the party: For role-playing purposes, the stats for the player characters were taken from the Sample Player Roster (82B1P31-32), with the new characters rolled back to Level 1. Midnight Sparkle is Cathartic, Hope Springs is Ethelrede, Torn Deck is Flemin, Burnished Lore is Weslocke, and Carry On is Hockerbrecht. By the way, the biggest mistake made in the ’87 version was to refer to a sample player roster, but not include one. I had to get the ’82 version for that reason alone!

* Facet: Obvious Rarity ancestor. Corresponds to Benedict in the Sample Player Roster.

* Itty Bitty: Obvious Fluttershy ancestor. Corresponds to Arocken in the Sample Player Roster.

Chapter 27: The Hermit

* The earthquake: This is foreshadowing for the collapse of dimensional boundaries at the climax of the game. “Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth” only used dimensional shenanigans to explain why so many weird creatures were in the caverns, but the original 1977 version (entitled “The Lost Caverns of Tsojconth”) went further, and stated that any party playing the game were capable of meeting one another. See the “Planar Nexus” section of grodog’s “Lost Caverns” page.

* The dragon fight: In “The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth”, there were twenty possible random encounters that could be rolled up in the wilderness, while the players try to find the lost caverns. Encounter #19 is a blue dragon (82B1P8; rather infuriating, the ’87 version has a different list of twenty encounters, and then only describes the first ten; you have to figure out that the Dragon’s Cavern lair on 87B1P63 is the same thing). Obviously, the fight is my way of replacing the original dragon with the transformed Firebelle.

* “The Underdark”: The D&D term for all of the underground spaces of the world.

* Three brown bears: Wilderness Random Encounter #3 in 82B1P5, #4 in 87B159.

* Avalanche Aftermath: Wilderness Random Encounter #3, “Rockslide” in 82B1P5, #3 in 87B1P59.

* Dead roc: Not in “Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth,” but necessary to set up my version of the Craggy Dells encounter next chapter.

* Stone giant: Wilderness Random Encounter #20 in 82B1P8, Stone Giant’s Playground Lair in 87B1P64. Both encounters described two giants, but I decided to only use one.

* Hermit’s cave: Wilderness Random Encounter #13 in 82B1P7, Hermit’s Lair in 87B1P62.

* The hermit’s parchment: Described on 82B1P7, and graphically reproduced in 87B2P4-2 [Booklet 2 has weird page numbers]. Grodog’s website (section “The Hermit’s Fragment”) manages a partial reconstruction to figure out the missing words. Grodog concludes that the hermit was the actual author of the fragment, which I tried to imply was true of Nestoria as well. “Trotter and Scout” were “Yaim and Brelid” in the original. Prayer in the original was not directed to any deity in particular.

* Materializing maps: My contribution.

* “The horn of Eggswife”: 82B1P3, 87B24-1. I just swapped out the words “Iggwilv” and “men” (which ruins the final rhyme).

Chapter 28: An Unexpected Rescue

* The roc rescue: This encounter, called “The Craggy Dells” in “Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth”, appears at 82B1P12, 87B1P65. In the original, it was hippogriffs being enslaved instead of rocs, and the slavers were humans and orcs instead of Earth Pony Army goons. I then tied this into the separate “Gnome Vale” encounter (82B1P9, 87B1P64), turning the gnomes into breezies.

* “The path crests and then drops away...most of the area is covered with lush grasses.”: Direct quote from “The Craggy Dells”.

* “The Three-in-One”: An alicorn.

* Web spell: Using the rules outlined in the AD&D Player’s Manual by Gary Gygax (1978), page 72.

* Ewoks: Toyetic creations of George Lucas, 1983.

* Staff of Striking: Magic item from p. 134 of the Dungeon Master‘s Guide.

* “Torn Deck gained the boss’ Crossbow of Speed, and Carry On claimed a Rope of Entanglement”: And the author promptly forgot about both of them.

* Bumble the Brave: Once he joined the party, he got the Sample Character profile of Dunil.

* The gold circlets: The first of two major contributions to the “Lost Caverns of Soap Candy” in order to allow non-violent solutions to future encounters.

* Bumble’s story of the breezies under Eggswife: Another original contribution. So much of these chapters is straight Gygax, so I felt it only fair to point out the occasional interleaving moment of McPoodle.

* The silver bands: The second way I made “Lost Caverns” less violent. Plus, it allowed all kinds of dragon/pony hijinks.

* “I place the ring on myself and think of the sun”: Hope, why are you so crazy?

Chapter 29: She’s Not Entirely Stable

* The chapter title: Always makes me think of a particular scene between C3P0 and Han Solo in The Empire Strikes Back (1980).

* “The track leads to a cavern...[p]robably the wind”: Text taken from 87B1P66; 82B1P13 leaves the moaning out.

* “The walls of the cave...some discarded gear.”: More text from 82B1P66.

* “[Marcus] left way back when the Guild was assigning the mission”: Which just happened to be when the name “Howard” was spoken aloud.

* “Somebody’s Watching Me”: Single by Rockwell, released January 14, 1984. Here’s a female cover by Anna Waronker.

* “Owner of a Lonely Heart”: Single by the progressive rock band Yes, released October 1983. Here’s a female cover (at least the singer), by Jad&Den Quintet.

* Sweet’N Low: Artificial sweetener manufactured by Cumberland Packing Corporaton.

Chapter 30: Calling in the Cavalry

* “I even remember that stone’s DBC!”: “DBC” stands for “Draconic Bloodline Code”, a fanon system for addressing a dragonfire-sent message to a specific recipient. I should know, because I invented it for “The Perfect Little Village of Ponyville”.

Chapter 31: The Best Boat Ever

* Enormous cell phone: And yes, they were enormous in the 1980’s.

* The underground river: The ‘87 version does a better job of handling this: 87B1P67.

* Map of the Lesser Caverns, in case you want to follow along. This rendition is by Scrivener of Doom, from this page. In a move designed to drive the DM insane, the ‘87 version switches the name of the Greater and Lesser Caverns in the text, but not on the maps. The upper (entrance) level is supposed to be the Lesser Caverns, and the lower (boss) level is supposed to be the Greater Caverns. The guano-filled cave is area 4 on the map. “Area” 13 is the boat, which is supposed to be located on the eastern shore of the underground lake, although there’s a note in “Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth” suggesting that the DM stick it where Scrivener does to make the game even harder than it already is.

* “Spanish Inquisition”: Sketch from the “Spanish Inquisition” episode of Monty Python’s Flying Circus (1970).

* “Tow rope!”: See, this is why you need to have rope with you at all times.

* Hall of flesh-eating bats: Between numbered areas 10 and 11 on the map. Called, as I had M.J. admit, the “Corridor of Limitless Bats”.

* Descent into the boat: An example of the kind of drama you can generate strictly through die-rolling and role-playing.

* Feather Fall: Page 66 of the Player’s Handbook.

* “The river pours into a high-vaulted cavern...the landing there leads off to the northwest.”: Direct quote, 87B1P67.

* The Gorge of Eternal Peril: Conveniently located under the Bridge of Death, Monty Python and the Holy Grail.

* “Eat all the passengers like an angry Muppet”: OK, first of all, Disney currently owns the Muppets, who were created by Jim Henson. Second, Muppets have a long history of eating each other...and even people. And it’s always hilarious.

Chapter 32: An Alternative Theory

* CompuServe: The first major commercial online service in the United States. It was eventually eclipsed by AOL, which bought the company in 1998.

Chapter 33: Escort Mission

* Praporshchik: A rank in the old Russian Imperial army, equivalent to an ensign. The term literally translates to “flag bearer”.

* “I take care of the place while the Master is away.”: Yeah, I admit it—I stole that line wholesale from Manos: The Hands of Fate. And no, I won’t subject you to a YouTube clip of that scene.

Chapter 34: Let It Go

* “Tribe of reptile creatures”: Troglodytes, to be specific. This is Area 1 in the Greater Caverns.

* “A distant nautical tune”: “Sailor’s Hornpipe” (traditional, before 1770). Since I learned the tune as the introduction to the Popeye the Sailor cartoons (1932, Fleischer Studios), I added his laugh onto the end.

* “The ornately carved and sculptured bridge...fills the ears.”: Direct quote, 82B1P69.

* “I don’t have the ability to shrink it.”: In one of the many casual cruelties in “Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth”, the magic word to shrink the boat, “shrimpkin”, is only revealed right near the end of the game, at a moment when the player is least likely to notice.

*” Smells like a trap”: Yup. Best trap in the entire adventure, in fact. Oh well.

* “[T]he cavern’s ceiling was unusually high...coins and metal bars.”: Nearly-direct quote, 82B1P17 & 82B1P73. This is Area 16 in that map of the Lesser Caverns linked above. The creature here is a Gorgimera, introduced to the D&D world for the first time with this adventure (82B2P13).

Chapter 35: Magical Hydraulics

* “Unlike what you may have been told, there are parts of that place that are not designed to be a prison, but rather a place where rejected creatures can live as they wish.”: I’m basing this on the mythical Tartarus, which was the same way. [The show went this very direction with the Season 8 finale, which came out four years after I wrote this.]

* The dull-looking satchel: Amusingly, Chossos’ treasure actually included a Bag of Holding.

* “Carry On Wayward Son”, song by the progressive rock band Kansas (which somehow became Nebraska in an alternate universe), released 1976. Female cover from Supernatural The Musical.

* “Miner 2049er”: Video game written by Bill Hogue for the Apple II and various other home computer platforms in 1982.

* “Is it ticking?”: I swear, you cannot go through a D&D game session without somebody asking that question.

*” In the center lies the gate...”: Verse from 82B1P18, 87B3P2. My sister Sparky, who ran this game back in the 80’s, added the third verse here, after her players failed to use the directional clues she had been dropping to figure out the Greater Caverns (of which “Going south takes you southwest” was the first). It’s her copy of the ’87 module that I’m using.

* The water level discussion: Taken straight from Jason Thompson (alias Mockman)’s satirical guide to “The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth”, Areas 17 & 18. Just so I can’t be accused of stealing money from the guy, and because I like a lot of his stuff, here’s a link to a place where you can buy a print of it, in case Tsojcanth was a major part of your misspent childhood or something.

Chapter 37: You Are In a Maze of Twisty Passages, All Alike

* Title: Taken from “Colossal Cave Adventure”, 1976. Written by Will Crowther and Don Woods.

* May I have a map to the Greater Caverns, Mr. Notes Guy?: Okay, since you asked nicely. Like the last one, this is by Scrivener of Doom.

* The large stone idol: Described only as a “type IV demon”, I decided that this was a statue of Graze/Graz’zt instead. 82B1P26, 87B1P78.

* “AC 2”: Armor Class. Lower numbers indicate someone who’s harder to hit. The related abbreviation “THAC0” stands for “To Hit Armor Class 0”. Basically, you adjust your unique THAC0 number up or down compared to the actual armor class of your opponent, and then you have to roll that number or higher on a 20-sided die to hit. 1 is always an automatic fumble (and possibly breakage of the weapon), and 20 is always an automatic hit (with a chance of dealing double damage).

Chapter 37: Celestia the Cheating Cheater Cheats Some More

* The entrance: Area 1 on the map of the Lesser Caverns.

* Giant mosquitos: Stirges, Monster Manual, page 92. They came from Area 2 on the map.

* Small grotto: Area 6 on the map. The description is a paraphrase of 82B1P14, 87B1P70.

* The pech: A race of creatures introduced to the D&D world with this adventure. 87B2P15. They come from Scottish legends, so imagine them with Scottish accents.

* “The passage made a sharp left turn”: We are now in Area 10 of the Lower Caverns map.

Chapter 38: A Horse with Two Names

* Title: Reference to “A Horse with No Name”, a 1972 song by the rock band America.

* “[A] pair of riveted iron doors...circumscribed place.”: Direct quote, 82B1P28, 87B1P78. Oddly, the ’82 version calls them “valves” instead of “doors”. Obviously, “Iggwilv” and “fools” in the original were changed to “Eggswife” and “foals”, and measurements were translated into Equine (three inches equals one hoof, four feet vertically equals one ponyheight, and three feet horizontally equals one ponylength).

Chapter 40: Introductions

* “Beyond the iron doors...the entire passageway.”: Direct quote, 82B1P27, 87P1P78.

* “On the left wall, a painting shows a four-and-a-half ponylength wooden boat with a lovely, black-maned pony at the tiller, smiling under a stormy night sky.” And, if they had examined the boat in the painting, they would have seen the magic word “shrimpkin” written on its prow. See what I mean about this game being unfair?

* “This room appears...center of each wall”: Direct quote, 87B1P74. The ’82 version doesn’t bother describing it. If you’re following along on the Greater Caverns map, they went through the northernmost Area 19 through Door D, and emerged in area D.

* “[The] small and non-descript area has a strange box in its center. Atop the box is a skull—probably that of a human or elf.”: Direct quote, 82B1P25, 87B1P76. Area 11 in the Greater Caverns map. And this room is reminiscent of the crypt of Acererak the demi-lich from “Tomb of Horrors” (1978) by Gary Gygax, one of the most famous (or infamous) of all D&D modules. “Oubliette of Terror” is the alternate-universe version of this game.

Chapter 40: That Trapper’s a Keeper

* That title: Totally worth it.

* Trapper: Monster Manual, page 95. One of my favorite pages, mostly because it has this picture on it:

* “Capriccio Italien”: One of my favorite works by composer Pyotr Ilych Tchaikovsky.

* A bastard sword is a type of two-handed (or two-hooved) sword. Never ask how a non-unicorn pony can competently wield a sword.

* “Facet broke her Staff of Striking”: Cue Big “NO!” (And cue obligatory TV Tropes link.)

Chapter 41: Syd and Marté Krofft This Isn’t

* Title: Sid and Marty Krofft created the 1974 children’s show Land of the Lost. The title version represents how hard it is to gender-switch the names “Sid” and “Marty”. Land of the Lost is being invoked because it’s about a family of explorers that find themselves in another world.

* Mammoth-Flint Ridge Cave System: Administered by the U.S. National Parks Service since 1941. I do not know for certain if Mammoth-Flint Ridge inspired the layout of Tsojcanth’s caverns.

* Patricia Crowther: For once, I’m not gender-switching accomplishments around. Pat Crowther really was part of the team that found the connection between Mammoth and Flint Ridge, in July - September of 1972, and she alone made it through the “Tight Spot”, which was a crucial part of that effort. She also wrote the official account of the expedition. After her second marriage, she became known as Pat Wilcox. If I knew her maiden name, I would have used that in this story, but as it is, I stuck with her first married name.

* John Crowther: Pat Crowther’s second husband, John Wilcox, leader of the Mammoth-Flint Ridge expedition. They married in 1977. Sandy and Laura are the names of Pat’s daughters by her first husband, Will Crowther. For comedic purposes, I made him the one who didn’t think spelunking was the best recreational activity in the history of the universe. Seeing as all of these people are still alive, let me reiterate that my versions of all four are completely fictional, and no offence was meant.

* Colossal Cave Adventure: In our world, it was actually written by Pat’s first husband (and frequent caving partner) Will Crowther.

* Walt Disney World: Property of the Disney Company, and don’t you forget it.

* Purgatory: Name of a cave in Mammoth. Styx and Lethe, the Great Walk and Echo River are also actual features of the those caverns, although I doubt they are part of any modern tours—I got them off of a Nineteenth Century map.

* Flint Dome: Another part of Mammoth Caves, and the closest area to something on the Greater Caverns of Tsojcanth that I could find. The “historic entrance” is also real.

* Pakuni: The race of cute caveman-like beings from Land of the Lost.

* “Am I in Oz?”: Something emphasized in the original Wonderful Wizard of Oz book by L. Frank Baum (1900) but not in the movies or the sequels, was the fact that all of the inhabitants (not just the Munchkins) were the same height as Dorothy.

* Technicolor: The main method of providing color to motion pictures between 1922 and 1952. Owned by the Technicolor Motion Picture Corporation.

* “Novelties and notions”: Setup for a joke in the W.C. Fields/Mae West vehicle My Little Chickadee (1940). See, Mae West character’s supposed to look at the business card that W.C. Field’s character gave her and ask, “What kind of notions you got?” and Field’s character would then reply with “You’d be surprised.” Which is sort of her catchphrase, you see.

* The abbot and the castellan: Bud Abbot and Lou Costello.

* NaCl: Chemical formula for salt.

* “I can remember when, with my own unsteady legs, I toddled from room to room.”: Line delivered by W.C. fields to the ventriloquist’s dummy Charlie McCarthy on the radio show The Chase and Sanborn Hour (1939), with Pat delivering Charlie’s comeback. Charlie was Edgar Bergen’s puppet.

Chapter 42: Reunions, Happy and Otherwise

* Identical twin cousins: As far as I know, the American sitcom The Patty Duke Show (1963) was the last time anybody actually tried to pull a stunt like “identical twin cousins” and expect anybody to believe it.

* Gas Spores: Animate fungi that impersonate the far more dangerous beholder in order to trick adventurers into puncturing them...at which point they release their spores into living flesh. Gary Gygax loved coming up with stuff like that to spring on unwary players.

* Nasty knife: The Thief and his knife are actually from “Zork I” (Infocom, 1977), which was adapted from “Colossal Cave Adventure”.

* Demons of the dark: Door F/Area F in the Greater Caverns map is adjacent to Area 8, where several demons use the powers of illusion and darkness to try and outsmart any adventurers who enter.

* Putting a portable hole inside a bag of holding: It’s true that this will get you sucked into another dimension, although it’s supposed to be the Astral Plane (Dungeon Master’s Guide, page 152).

Chapter 43: Eggswife’s Treasure

* “Many times have you opened these ebon doors...moons, stars, and strange symbols.”: Direct quote, the longest one in fact. 87B1P78-79. The ’82 version has different text.

* Dreadna: Drelnza in “Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth”, the “fighter/vampire” daughter of Iggwilv and Graz’zt. (Yeah, I don’t know how that works either—was it being a half-demon what made her into a vampire, or did her mother deliberately infect her later?) One of the best illustrations in the ’82 version of the module shows her asleep. It’s by Jeff Easley:

Chapter 44: Falling toward Apotheosis

* Dreadna’s sword Slayer: In “The Lost Caverns of Tsojcanth”, Drelnza’s weapon is one of the very few intelligent swords not to have a name.

* Bigby’s Crushing Hand: Page 92 of the Player‘s Handbook.

* “Death From Above”: A very popular phrase. I always associate it with Sam & Max: Freelance Police, myself.

* Shocking Grasp: Page 68 of the Player’s Handbook.

* “Я люблю тебя”: “I love you” in machine-translated Russian.

Chapter 45: One Last Game

* “Just following orders”: Standard defense at the Nuremberg Trial of Nazi officers after WWII (1945).

* Bugles: Corn snack food manufactured by General Mills.

* Zone of Truth: One of those weird post-First Edition D&D spells that Hope keeps coming up with.

* “I hear [Brian’s] fancying himself a writer now.”: You know that really awful D&D-crossover fanfic you read once, where the main character raped everything you held near and dear to your heart? Brian wrote it.

* Valley Girl: Term used to describe a group of upper-middle class teenage girls living in the San Fernando Valley of California, popularized by a 1982 song of the same name by Frank Zappa and typified by their way of speaking.

Bonus Chapter: Howard

* Alice Crowley: The infamous occultist Aleister Crowley (1875 - 1947), who managed to gain the press title of “wickedest man in the world”.

* Sumerian incantations: In 1977, a work claiming to be the real version of the fictional Necronomicon was published (later referred to as the “Simon Necronomicon”, to distinguish it from H.P. Lovecraft’s creation). A hugely popular paperback printing was put out in 1980 by Avon Books (later Bantam Books), and has never gone out of print. The spells it contained were largely cribbed from Sumerian texts.

* Cordis and Trieques: Try reversing the syllables of each name—the second one is admittedly missing an “A”. The 1970’s were a time when many psychics claimed to have made mental contact with alien or time-travelling intelligences.

Chapter 48: Rebirth

* Laura Curtis’ Dragon World: The Dragonlance campaign setting for Dungeons & Dragons, the first such setting to be accompanied by a set of novels. Dragonlance was invented by Laura and Tracy Hickman in 1982, with the first work published in 1984. The setting was mostly developed by Tracy Hickman and Margaret Weiss.

* Laura Curtis’ Vampony World: Ravenloft began as a 1983 module written by the Hickmans. After also writing a 1986 sequel, the idea was given to Bruce Nesmith and Andria Hayday to develop into a complete campaign setting in 1990.

* Laura Curtis’ Steampunk Pony World: The term “steampunk” was invented in 1985 by author K. W. Jeter to refer to a type of science fiction written by himself and others, involving anachronistic steam-derived technology in some variation of the Victorian world. D&D doesn’t actually have a steampunk setting, but it does have Spelljammer, which could be considered the fantasy/Ptolemaic equivalent. Spelljammer was developed by Jeff Grubb in 1989.

* Laura Curtis’ Post-aPocalyptic Ponies: Dark Sun, a D&D campaign setting centered on a world devastated by magical overuse. Developed by Timothy B. Brown and Troy Denning in 1991. Oh, and the title is a pun on Jim Henson’s Muppet Babies (1984, Jim Henson/Marvel).

* History of Horsewords, Inc.: In reality, Gary Gygax lost control of TSR as a result of paying more attention to the production of the cartoon and his divorce from Mary Jo in the mid-80’s than to the rickety finances of his company. In the mid-90’s, market share shifted from tabletop role-playing to collectible card gaming. Wizards of the Coast, the manufacturer of the most-popular such card came, Magic: The Gathering, bought TSR in 1997. Two years later, Wizards itself was bought by...

* Fashion Pro: Alias Hasbro.

* Ponies & Dragons editions: AD&D 2nd Edition was published in 1989, designed to remove all those controversial references to demons and angels, to remove morally grey/black classes such as assassins, and to move the target demographic once and for all from young adults to teenagers, both male and female. D&D 3rd Edition was put out by Hasbro in 2000, and generated a rather large backlash from players, who refused to leave 2nd Edition, abandoned D&D entirely for Internet-popularized custom systems, or even went back to AD&D 1st edition. (I wasn’t a player at this point, so I can’t be more specific about why 3rd Edition supposedly sucked.) Just like My Little Pony, D&D had a v.3.5 (2003), and just like MLP, it was also despised by the fandom.

* Warehouses outside Phoenix stuffed with unsold merchandise: I figure you can’t have a “failed company” story without warehouses in the southwest United States being involved. I’m thinking in particular of the E.T. the Extraterrestrial video game for the Atari 2600 (1982), where 700,000 unsold cartridges ended up being buried in a New Mexico landfill.

* Defenders of Sicily: I’m thinking something that’s Settlers of Catan-ish, the chief representative of a class of games that replaced tabletop board games in the hearts of many players.

* Brooke Golden: Brian Goldner is the current CEO of Hasbro. He has a daughter named Brooke.

* Aly Fassfelder: Made-up name based on the Hassenfelds, the “Has” in “Hasbro”.

* “One of the modules I have in mind is an athletic competition”: Module 16 of Friendship Is Magic, “Sonic Rainboom”, written by M. A. Larson.

* “Let’s say for now that it’s ‘secret’, and fill in the blank later.”: Super-module 1-2, “Friendship Is Magic”, written by Ellen Powell.

* “They might even have to chase off [a dragon]”: Module 7, “Dragon Quest”, written by Meghan McCarthy.

* Power Morpher: It’s Mighty Morphin Power Rangers, only instead of riding in Zords, they transform into giant robots!

* “The best possible Equestria...through ponies and people”: If that sentence didn’t make you slightly nervous, then I wasn’t doing it right.

* “A new, eternally bright beginning”: So, Tia, what do you think?