There were barely any unicorns competing in the Equestria Games this year. Since the games were a celebration of athleticism, and magic can hardly be considered athletic, there weren't any unicorn specific competitions. Still, it was a bit unfair, as there were pegasus specific competitions, and earth ponies were famously determined that some events were populated almost entirely by them. Especially with the recent addition of magic disabling spell to even be aloud in the arena; unicorns were beginning to feel a little discriminated against.
Well, sucks for them; I'm a pegasus, and a strong one at that. My name is Atl, and today I stand amongst the few and fellow champions of their homes, preparing for for our event of choice: The Sky Javelin. It was still hours until the event, and each of us were doing what we could to enjoy ourselves before we all collectively put on our game faces. This didn't stop some from slipping them on prematurely; Jitterbug and Seed Breeze, the representatives from Vanhoover and Baltimare respectively, were puffing out their brown and teal chest (again, respectively) as they stared each other down with unflinching determination. Though, this could just be how they chose to entertain themselves; I personally preferred a game of “Queen of the Void” with one of the few in other competitors who played.
His name was... I can't actually remember. I think he said he was from somewhere south, well past Apploosa and the Macintosh Hills. Someplace just north of Dragonia. (That's what it's called on the map, even if it doesn't have anything resembling a government) It didn't matter. He played “Queen of the Void” running a “Nexus Army” deck, and generally kicking the crap out of my deck. Still, I had a partner, which was surprisingly hard to find back home. However, It was starting to get a little annoying that he barely ever reacted to victory, both his and mine.
Did I mention that he was a changeling? I never expected to be this close to one who wasn't trying to suck out my good vibes, but here he was, playing cards with me. He'd put on a disguise, the face of a faded ginger stallion, to avoid scaring anyone, but I knew what he was, and so did everyone else. He'd been aloud to compete as part of some treaty designed to keep Queen Chrysalis from burning anymore cities. It was nice that she was still banned from entering the country under penalty of death, as her attendance would have sent half the ponies packing, myself included.
At any rate, it was time for my first victory in five rounds. With a self-satisfied smack my hoof, I laid down my winning card.
“I bring forward Fiddler Crab to the vanguard” I slid down the little holographic image of large clawed crab with a fiddle tucked under his chin into the center of the game field. “I initiate his Melody of the Sea, switching your vanguard to inactive” I'm not going to try to explain this game. It'd be like explaining the complete nuanced history of Equestria to someone who didn't know who Princess Luna was. I clopped my hoof down on card near the rear of my field. “Now I'll use Star Sprint the Fleet Foot to climb the tower, moving him up the next stage...” I suppose without context this sounds like sad nonsense, but with context only sounds half as sad, and with only the slightest whiff of nonsense. I traced the way up the Tower of the Void with card in hoof, until I landed on a face-down card just below the gilded throne at the top.
“And I flip” With a grin on my face and sweat running down m brow, I flipped the face-down card. Paradise. It gives my character 20... It's a good card, and my grin got even wider.
Then my opponent flipped a card of his own.
“I flip Prayer to the Void Lords” He declared in an even, almost monotone voice.
“Which does?” I may have been playing this game for a while, but I didn't know every card, let alone the new ones.
“If I have 5 Lord level cards in my discard pile, of which I have six, I can switch out the effect of a tier card” That's what the cards lining the tower were called, and that Star Sprint now stood upon. “for a card in my hand.” Oh crap.
With a shuffle of his hooves, he revealed the card he intended to use: “Landmine” With that, my Star Sprint was sent to the discard pile and... you know what,it resulted in me losing, that's all I need to say. Normally, I'd just brush it off, but this time the stars freaking aligned and I got the perfect cards! I got Paradise, a card so rare I had to win it in a tournament; I'm one of only sixty regional finalists to own that card. I got Star Sprint, not too rare, but one of the only cards that could ascend the tower in one turn. I got Fiddler Crab, an ultra rare holofoil card only available in a special booster pack distributed exclusively in the Los Pegasus area, and that my opponent was now eying in his placid, changeling way.
Before I knew it, he'd scooped up the card and quietly examined it.
“It's a truly wonderful card. If you'd had the patience to-” blah-di blah, incomprehensible game jargon, “-you would have won. Though, what should I expect” he added in a melancholic whisper, lowering his eyes shamefully to the floor.
“Hey, I'm not that crap at this game.” I tried to sound fun and carefree, but I came across hollow and petty. “Wanna play another round?”
However, he'd put down my card already and had begun collecting his.
“No, I'd like to get to know some of the others. Queen Chrysalis wants me to be a good delegate.” He tucked his deck into his saddle bags and set off in the direction of a trio of athletes sharing stories of their homes, lives and family, all of which were apparently quite funny. The raucous laughter ended as the changeling reached the table.
“Well, poo on you” I quietly retorted, “I'm probably the only one here who'll give you the time of day.” I added with a sour frown. I moved to collect my own cards, turning a deaf ear to the verbal abuse flowing table's three occupants. Who knew I was the only one here who wasn't a xenophobe? Oh right, everyone and their dog. My head was fuzzy. Probably just bitter rage. I tucked my deck away and prepared to head out for a hay burger and cider. Who says I can't eat terribly a few hours before my event.
Okay, probably not bitter rage. I was flopped on the floor, panting, my right hoof throbbing with exhaustion. Thankfully, the others were either minding their own business or too busy tormenting the changeling, so no one had noticed. Time to try again, carefully this time. Each hoofstep was tentative and slow, making certain I had solid footing before I continued. Each one was tedious and taxing. I was glad when the slinging of anti-changeling epithets was drowned out by the roaring of blood in my ears and harsh thumping of my heart. I was almost to the door before my haggard gait was interrupted by the slipping of a second hoof.
However, this time I did not fall to the floor, but landed against something fluffy, but hard.
“Oh, what Atl, you a bug cuddler now? I can buy you two a room if you want.” Why did my hearing have to come back in time to hear that? Then my verbally assailed pillow began to move, and I stumbled along with him. At my side was still transformed changeling, propping me up as we both made our way to the door. “Gonna make out with dead eyes are we” That guy was either drunk or an asshole. Probably the latter, considering what a bad idea it was to drink before the competition. Still, for an exoskeletal creature they claimed had no so, this changeling was surprisingly thin-skinned.
We both made it out into the empty stadium hallway before the insults made either of us gut somepony. He didn't look too perturbed, but a frown on a changeling meant a lot more than a frown on a pony.
“I told you everyone else was a prick” I panted out. Well, he probably couldn't hear it, but qualifiers were a thought a bit too complicated for my mind to grasp right now.
He told me as much, “I don't think you did, but you weren't very fond of me when I walked through those doors.” Did I detect bitterness. Wow, he was pissed.
“Yeah, but you made up for it with cards and plenty of dry humor” Did I drink a barrel of cider in the last five minutes? I felt drunk.
“I wasn't trying to make you laugh”
“Wow, you're really good if didn't even have to try.”
The changeling stopped, and I kept going, quickly landing on my face once more.
“I liked you better before” He said solemnly, dipping his head to look at the ground.
“Before what?” I chortled back. Then the gears in my mind started turning. Painfully. Every click of mental cogs was met with a screaming headache. It was as if the gears were encased in concrete... which had nerve endings. Slowly, they churning and slid, powderizing the sensitive concrete as it pushed me towards an answer. I wanted it to stop, but it wouldn't. It was barely eking out a single thought, but it felt like my brain was being used as calculator for quantum magic mechanics. Finally, the toothed wheels slid into place, and a realization dribbled out of the mechanism. “You've been feeding on me”
I don't think he suspected I had the mental power left, as his eyes went wide and his limbs stiffened. Then, his shock turned worry, and he down at me with begging eye.
“Please don't make me cocoon you. I like you, and really don't want to hurt you”
“Den why did 'ou feed om me!” It seems slowly welling anger and mental-physical exhaustion resulted in speech blending together like a watercolor painting.
“Sorry, I didn't notice while we were play until you screwed up that fool proof strategy. I didn't mean to feed for so long”
So long?! He was trying to feed on me. Ow, thought. “'ust gimme back my...” what was it called? “my mojo and all isth forgiven!” Well, maybe not, but I'd make the effort to pretend it was.
His face scrunched up like he'd just downed a bucket of lemons. Subsequently, he whipped his head back and forth as if he were paranoid, his disguise slipping for a second over his hollow blue eyes.
“I can't” He paced back and forth like a nervous child. “The Queen demands it” little beads of sweat formed over his brow, “She asked that I neutralize any competitors...” A little light bulb went off in his head, and just a moment later, his face was pressed within inches of mine, “I can, if you don't have a chance of winning”
Well, I did have a chance, but thankfully I was still smart enough to lie for my own benefit, “Are you kidding,” I had to focus to keep the slur out of my voice, “I was on my way to get fast food and alcohol, my chances are slim to none.”
If he'd had a tail, it would have been wagging. With a brimming grin stretched across his face, he undid his feasting. It occurs to me now that this must be something similar to vomiting for a changeling. As he pulled away from me, a short, black spike of a horn manifested in the center of his forehead, and glowed with a sticky blue light. The blue glow snaked back and forth from his horn, working its way up to, and around me. A strange, tingling sensation emanated from the gooey light as it slow brushed my skin. It slowly sunk into, feeling like a bath in honey, as the sticky magic work its way into my muscles. Within a minute, it was done, and I was operating at full capacity.
I stood up with the same cautious contemplation I had when leaving the lounge, soon discovering that my limbs were fully functional. I flung my arm around my companion and swung to his side with a big, stupid grin on my face.
“Woohoo, let's get drunk!”
***
Ah, the bar of champions. Most didn't come here until after their events (I think I saw the famous Ponyville pegasus Rainbow Dash nursing a mug of cider), except for the idiots like me. Luckily, I had the fortune to be born in Los Pegasus, where the typical citizen enjoys an entire bottle of wine with dinner. Still, a packet of yeast before hand and I was completely immune to inebriation, in addition to my natural resistance. However, for all my changeling friend knew, I was plastered. They don't have a strong grasp on the subtleties of equine behavior.
“So, I'm gonna go out on a limb here, and guess that your queen wanted you to lurgy up all the opponents.” I made certain to move jerkily around and emphasize completely the wrong words in conjunction with the spastic movements.
My changeling friend... I'm just going to call him Bob from now on; Bob, sitting right next to me in the booth, didn't seem all that comfortable. It might be that he just didn't like dealing with drunks, or that he wasn't suppose to talk with drunkards about changeling conspiracies. At any rate, since recovering my mental faculties, I'd deduced his plan (not much of a deduction when he monologued about it) and figured out exactly what I was going to do with the information.
“Not having much luck though, huh?” with a deep pull from my cider tankard, I let the question sink in. I saw that he was getting more uncomfortable. “Sorry your queen sucks so much worse than ours.” I didn't actually know if changeling were a hive mind, and I'd effectively been playing cards with Chrysalis, but that one got under his shell.
With a sharp jerk of his head, Bob replied, “The queen is our matron, our mother, and our provider. Your queen is an ineffectual aristocrat with a gentle face. Ours is action, yours is image.” In sharp, flat tones, he explained with total devotion his views on royalty. And hard to argue with; I didn't exactly know what Celestia did.
I let out my best drunken laugh. “You're kinda right.” I giggled. “She's probably a wonderful queen to you, Bob-” He looked confused at that one, “but I guess I'm a little biased. Any chance I can play a game of 'Queen of the Void' with her?” I punctuated with another pull of my cider.
“No, the queen doesn't indulge such things. Few changeling do. In fact, since we can read each others' minds, you have find a particularly sporting partner for a fair game. It's one of the reasons I like you, the other being that you don't spit at me” His stoic monotone was starting to get on my nerves.
“I like you too. If you want, I can help you out; I'm fine with silver.”
“Not likely.” he replied with a pessimistic intone, “I don't think any of them will talk to a changeling for five minutes. I honestly would prefer to play fair, but the queen demands it.” He straightened himself up, filling with his patriotic fervor yet again, “we are only permitted to compete in one event, therefor, we must dominate that event.”
“They don't have to talk to a changeling.” I proposed, polishing off my tankard of cider.
***
Atl returned to the pre-game lounge. His walk showed none of the lethargic stumbling he'd left with, nor the inebriated stagger you'd expect. He just came back and proceeded to chat up the competition, his changeling friend nowhere to be seen. Atl tried to avoid shows of sympathy whenever Bob was brought up, usually in a derogatory way, and would change the subject to some comedic anecdote or a question that demanded a long winded answer. He was doing quite a good job. I'd taught him well.
Unfortunately, I wasn't able to bask in my success for very long, as I didn't want any of others to see me peering in through the window. I only got to see him drain one particularly obnoxious representative before setting out to find the nearest bathroom.
It had been an hour since I suggested Bob disguise himself as me. Frankly, I'm surprised I was able to hold it for this long with all the cider I drank. It hadn't taken long to convince Bob to give it a try, but we soon ran into a roadblock, as Bob didn't do a very good impression of me. The others would notice if I was acting so severely out of character. So we spent the next painful, torturous half-hour teaching Bob how to emote like a pony, and the rest of the painful, torturous hour teaching him the subtleties of my behavior. I really wish I could get drunk at this point.
But the hour passed, and Bob was sufficiently trained in the art of Atl. That or I was just too sick of it to continue, but from what I saw, he was convincing enough for them. Well, bathroom found, and tank emptied. Better fill it up again.
Bob and I agreed to meet up again at the bar when he was done. With a second packet of yeast downed, I was ready for a fresh tankard of beer. Or maybe something else, like wine or mead. I had a long time to wait, so I might get a chance to try them all.
And by the flaming eclipse I did. Oh, If it hadn't been for the yeast I slurped down between mugs, even I would have been out of my skull. Best booze in all Equestria! Or, technically the Crystal Empire, but that still counted. About an hour earlier I saw Rainbow Dash being dragged away from her cider, kicking a screaming, and I couldn't promise I wouldn't do the same. I really really needed another trip to the bathroom, but not badly enough that I couldn't fit in one more round before hand. I was just about to order when Bob returned through the bar door, thankfully not wearing my face, and sat next to me in my corner booth.
“It is done. Thank you for your assistance Atl.” He relayed calmly, using my lesson on equine emotion to convey gratitude.
“Not a problem, just please don't tell anyone” I laughed back, “But you couldn't done it faster? I've been here for three hours and downed enough alcohol to kill a lesser pony!”
“I'm sorry, there were very many in our event.” He was getting good at those emotes, effectively displaying regret in his face. Not so much his body, but baby steps.
I gave him a sigh, “It's alright. Listen, I'll go drain away all this booze, and then we can play 'Queen of the Void' for the next two hours.”
He once again showed his tail-wagging face, this time buoyed by an hour of training.
“I'd love that. I hope you play better drunk than enervated” He replied cheerily.
“Oh, everyone in Los Pegasus can do everything up to forklift operation with a blood-alcohol level 0.20. You're in troubled” I got up, leaving my mug on the table, and began the treacherous journey to the bathroom fifteen meters down the hall. My friend was still bolt upright, unaware that his game partner was not actually drunk, and that he was about to get his changeling buttocks spanked.
***
“Come on! I'll trade you a 'Nexus Flintlock' AND a 'Tropes of the Gallant'” Bob had become quite vocal after losing five rounds straight, every time to my Fiddler Crab in one form or another.
“No” I replied teasingly as we traveled down bland, blue-gray hallway leading to the field, surrounded by our rather quiet opponents. The two hours had come and gone, leaving behind a 7-3 win record in my favor and a rather envious changeling.
“But that card is the only thing missing from my deck. Pleeeeeease!” Bob whined like a foal.
“Your deck wouldn't benefit from a 'Fiddler Crab'. J'accuse!”
“Well, It's perfect for a deck I'm planning”
“And was this deck concocted in the last fifteen minutes, centered entirely around the Crab?” with my sarcastic query, we reached the gates of the area, where we would wait patiently for our turn to compete. Bored now. I turned to my vaguely embarrassed friend, and offered him chance.
“Play you for it” He instantly perked up and went rummaging through his saddle bags for his deck. “But, you have to put up 'Fiend Witch Kar'thale'” He nodded his head vigorously, his deck box in his mouth. We set up our game space and prepared for a game.
***
“Urg!” The game went exactly as I'd expected. It wasn't even close. Good draws on my part, not as good draws on his. “Best two out of three” He asked hopefully.
“I don't think so; the event is gonna start in a minute.” I started picking up my own cards, depositing them in my saddle bags.
“Oh” He scooped up his 'Fiend Witch Kar'thale', holding it forlornly in his hooves, before extending them to me.
“No, you keep it” Honestly, with all I'd deceived him, I wouldn't feel right taking his card. It was like stealing from a child! “I've already got the most powerful deck in five counties!” Well, third in Los Pegasus, but he didn't know that.
Just then, the door swung open and Shining Armor stood before us, fully decked in brilliant purple armor. Bob and I quickly bundled our things, setting them down in the corner with all the others'. We both took out place in the line up, while the rest took bit long in their subtly lurgied states. As we marched out, Shining Armor announced our names and homes, pausing for a bit when he got to Bob, as changeling did not have names.
Or maybe it was just out of barely restrained resentment at the entire changeling race.
“And lastly, representing the Changling Hive, Sling!” Props due, he barely sounded at all like he had just eaten a mouthful of rotten grapes. Sling?! He had a name?! I turned to my companion, gape jawed. He had taken on the appearance of a solid black stallion with candy blue eyes and a slingshot cutie mark. Wait, does each individual changeling have a special talent? Is he some kind of special, uber-changling, specializing in the slinging of javelins? Ow, brain hurt.
“First up, Seed Breeze!” Props to Sling, he drained them just enough that they still thought they were fine, rather than left hobbling and half-conscious.
For those of you who don't know, the Sky Javelin is a sort of combination of pole vaulting and tradition javelin. Our special jackets have two sockets: one on top, and one on bottom. The top one hold the javelin, and the bottom on the vaulting pole. We get a running start down the track until we reach the end, whereupon we dig the pole into the ground and vault ourselves high into the air. When we reach the apex, we snap out our wings and to a lightning fast aerial somersault, flinging the javelin from our backs like an atl-atl towards a massive dartboard. (technically it's a target, but it makes me think of a giant dartboard) Whoever lands the most javelins closest to the center of the target wins.
Seed Breeze did better than expected: she hit the target... sort of. It connected, but didn't have enough force to bury itself in, so it just fell impotently to the ground like a tooth pick. Not to say Seed Breeze expected that, the look on her face was priceless. The other all came up to take their turns, each doing marginally better than the last, and each adopting an absolutely hilarious look of shock and anger.
My turn went reasonably well. My javelin embedded itself in the second ring. Not too shabby. It used to be exhilarating, but given the fact that I did it for a living had managed to suck most of the excitement out of the practice. Now it was just routine.
Then came Sling's turn, and he flew through the air and launched his spear with the same determination I saw him defend his queen with. It hit dead center in the middle. Well, for the second time in ten minutes, my friend had surprised me, and this time it made me very nervous. I know I said I was content with second place, but I was still hoping for first.
He returned to the ground, now grinning like a child. I dawned a nervous smile as he took his place at my side, trying to seem happy for him. It was kind of hard to resent someone who reminded you of a child, or a dog. Damn, I'd hoped the fact that he was incapacitating all of his opponents meant he was crap at this game. Don't get me wrong, I liked him, and wanted him to do well, but I still wanted to win.
As our competition took their turns to do marginally better than the last round, I sat there desperately trying to think of some way to win. I could trip him up. I could throw something at him. I could tell the others what he did. No, no no. I don't want to hurt him. I could offer him the Fiddler Crab to throw the game. No, He wouldn't do that, and besides, I would be cruel of me to make him choose. I don't want him to be hurt, nor lose him as a friend.
My turn came again, and this time I was determined. I ran at full force towards the track's end, dropping my whole weight onto the pole as it dug into the earth. Flung into the sky, I kept my eyes trained on the target. Now I was propped up on my precarious vault pole, calculating my next movements carefully. I tore my eyes away from the target as my wings splayed out to hold me aloft. In a whipping beat, my wings propelled me over myself, sending out a javelin as I whirled in the air.
Not quite dead in the center, but in the center ring. Now I was grinning like a child.
Then Sling's turn came up again, and he buried the second one right in the center.
Oh crap, I'm gonna lose this one. Oh, I'm not taking home the gold. Well, I suppose that's okay. Heck, I'd be taking home a lot less if Sling hadn't un-lurgied me. Urg, it's not working. I want to win. How can I win. Do the fan dance during his turn? I doubt that would do anything. I shouldn't cheat. If he gets the next one in the second circle and I get mine in the center, we'll be tied. Then we'll have a play off. No, his second javelin nearly hit the first one. I'm doomed.
My turn arose again, and I took it with a mild melancholy obstructing my thoughts. I stuck to my hope, and managed to put the javelin right at the border of the center and second rings. That still counted as the center.
Sling began his march up to the playing field. I was going to lose. How could I pull this out?! With a slight sigh, I withdrew a special card I kept on me at all times. I don't think I need to tell you which card it was. It was important to me. It was the card that won me my first game. That won me regionals more than once. It was the card that made the game for me, and the reason I still played it.
As Sling began his run up, a horrible idea spawned in my head. I subtly fluttered my wings, creating a breeze just strong enough to hold a playing card aloft. Sling dug his pole into the ground, and I released the 'Fiddler Crab', sending him towards his natural environment.
Sling reached the apex of his jump, and just before he snapped around to throw the javelin, he whipped his head back in time to see a 'Fiddler Crab' floating on an unseen breeze into a swimming pool.
Sling rolled in the air, sending his javelin flying, but immediately surged back towards us. Towards the swimming pool. With a speed I might attribute to Spit Fire, Sling grazed he water of the swimming pool, before arriving at our side, 'Fiddler Crab' clutched in his mouth.
He handed it to me before speaking. “You dropped your card. It was about to become mush in a pool.” He cocked his head sympathetically, “I wouldn't want you to loose something so important.”
“How did you-”
“I'm a changeling, I can feel when somebody loves something”
Then Shining Armor interrupted, “This winner is: Atl, from Los Pegasus!”
Sling and I whipped our heads around to gaze upon the dartboard. Sling's javelin had not missed the target. Rather, it landed just outside the second circle.
He would have won for sure if not for me. “Here, you can have it” I offered him the card, “You lost because of it. Because of me.” I wasn't quite sure if I was just trying to mollify that part of myself that feels bad about cheating, or that I really did want to try to make it up to him. I wasn't going to confess; this is guilt, not a concussion. But I did want Sling to get something out of this.
He looked up at me kindly, before snatching the card away and heading for his second place spot in the line up.
***
We all stood on the podium as the Los Pegasus anthem played. Sling to my right, a silver medal round his neck and a playing card in his mouth (I guess changeling don't salivated) wearing his best tail-wagging face. And Flitter from Ponyville to my left, fairly grumpy about her performance. I felt bad for her. I would have been infinitely upset with myself if I was suddenly performing at a sixth grade level.
“Will your queen be angry with you for this” I asked worriedly. I really didn't want Sling to get hurt.
“No. We are her children. We are an extension of her. We are the agents of her will. To be mad with us is to be mad with herself. She will be disappointed, but with herself, not I.” He paused for a moment, “I hope the queen does not hurt for this”
“I'm sure she'll be fine. She lost Canterlot, how much worse could taking second a sports competition be?”
“She sulked for a week after Canterlot” Sling replied.
Time to change the subject, “So, will I ever see you again?”
He perked up, “I can request more missions to Los Pegasus. The queen is always willing to oblige such request. I may require to bring back some energy, though”
“Hey, so long as you do it AFTER I spank you at 'Queen of the Void'”
“I'd like to see you try” He cockily replied.
This was good. I had a friend, and a gold medal. And I was sans a 'Fiddler Crab' but honestly, to make Sling happy, it was a small sacrifice. I was happy.
Until the medal board reviewed the footage and stripped me of my medals. Still, I had a friend.
