The Scroll of Exalted Ponies

Ascending up the slopes of the imperial mountain, of what in the first age had been known simply as the omphalos of Creation, sacred Meru, was not a quick process.

Dodging mountain-side earth aspected demesnes of immense crushing power, so mighty that not even the brightest minds of the first age had found means to cap them and tap their near infinite powers, was not easy: Speaker and Shimmer tried to spot them, but being so close to the elemental pole of earth made it very difficult. More than once Cash struggled to pull Nah out of a gravity vortex created by such a demesne – anything not tied down was sucked into these vortexes.

Still, the trip up the mountainside was a lot calmer than had been expected: At first, crossing a large water aspected demesne from which a large waterfall poured, the circle was accosted by a group of water elementals.

Luckily, before any alarms were raised, Sullen Hoof leapt into the midst of the water elementals and stood among them on the face of the waters just before they poured down the side of the mountain: “How dare you interrupt us – I will have you all reassigned to the pole of fire!”

The elementals recoiled, for they sensed neither Solar nor pony in the being before them: With his charms of disguise Sullen Hoof had veiled his essence to appear as that of a Sidereal and made his mask take on the rainbow hues of starmetal.

Jumping back onto Nah without saying a word, merely gesturing for Cash to continue the ascent, the circle found that no other elemental force on the mountain tried to interrupt them for the rest of the trip.

“Nice one – but don’t you think the sidereals will be pissed if they catch impersonating an agent of heaven?” Shimmer wondered, not wanting to call down any more wrath on the circle than was necessary.

Sullen Hoof shrugged as he terminated the veils put on his mask and essence, now that they were out of sight of the elementals: “Mandate of heaven – we can have our essence appear as anything we want here. Now, posing as a sidereal up in Yu-Shan… that would be trouble”

Spending the rest of the day moving up and acclimating to the increasingly thinner air, the circle suddenly found itself choking on poisoned essence as it had passed into a layer of clouds… and the source of the poison was all too clear as they quickly flew out of the cloud: They had entered into the western ruins of the ancient city of Meru, although this time Speaker didn’t weep… but Shimmer did sense that everyone around her grew quietly more enraged every second they beheld the ruins of the once glorious Solar capital of Creation.

Sniffing out a safe route of the ruins that wasn’t filled with an invisible miasma of poisonous essence wasn’t easy, for it stung and burned in Shimmer’s nose – and even Speaker with his medical charm found it difficult to counter the damage it was doing to her sense of smell on the fly. Even more worrying was the health of Nah, which only through Speaker’s constant infusions of clean essence and use medical charms was able to remain conscious – Cash’s flying mount charms didn’t work on unconscious or dead mounts… that was for Abyssal riding charms, and the Bodhisattva did not know of such.

Leaving the tarnished ruins, their once gleaming towers of glass, adamant, alabaster and orichalcum lost to millennia of dirt, essence decay and whatever other foul sorcery the sidereals had used to kill the Solars…

“Wait, you mean all the destruction back there is linked to the Usurpation? I just thought the destruction was from unicorns and sidereals trying to destroy the place afterwards… how do you know they’re linked?” Sullen Hoof wondered.

Speaker shrugged and turned his gaze to the dull floorboards of the howdah: “We passed by a crater where a bunch of broken columns stood, right? That was where the great banquet hall of heaven and earth used to be… that’s where we were all invited, where the usurpation itself was kicked off”

“That would explain all the snarled essence and fate strings I saw… I mean, they were so taught and frayed that I could spot them just with essence sight – reality is just broken there” Shimmer chimed in.

Ascending further up the mountainside from the ruins of Meru turned out to be very quick: Despite the altitude the air was as if they were at the surface. Cash recalled the ancient oaths that air elementals in the area had been put under, ensuring that from Meru and to the peak the air was nice and breathable.

This made the last leg of the journey a very short one, to which end the Bodhisattva roused himself and warned the circle: “Up on the peak, at the seat of Pasiap only unicorns are allowed – and from what I have been told then it is guarded well”
“But not by anyone connected to the wyld hunt, right? Just ordinary unicorn monks and whatnot - not anyone trained for fighting Solars and Lunars?” Speaker inquired, hoping that they wouldn’t have to be there too long.

The Bodhisattva rocked his head back and forth, looking somewhat uncertain: “Yes and no – I was told that its helmed by the kind of unicorns who would master their respective elemental dragon style purely for the meditative insights they give – but I have a plan to avoid too much fighting”

The daethknight’s plan was surprisingly simple: The circle was to drop the Bodhisattva off out of sight and let him approach the demesne on his own. By using an aspect of ghostflesh form he rarely bothered to employ, the Bodhisattva would manifest a horn and try to pass for some kind of unicorn who had been caught in the underworld and subsequently corrupted by it… and that he was seeking to reconnect to the elements to cleanse himself.

“So… basically tell them the truth, only you’re not really a unicorn?” Cash noted, finding the simple plan quite elegant.
Extruding a ‘horn’ of sorts from his ghostflesh head, it having the same semi-transparent properties as the rest of him, the Bodhisattva disagreed: “No, for now I am a unicorn”

Cloaking the Bodhisattva in hardy sail-cloth from Shimmer’s elsewhere den, the circle set the deathknight down out of sight from the demense. It was only a short walk there – there were no patrols or anything around the place… it didn’t appear as if it was made with flying intruders in mind.

Between Shimmer and Sully’s sensory enhancement charms allowing them to relay what was happening up at the peak, Cash and Speaker found that they were able to also witness the exchange – even if by proxy:

Approaching the shrine built next to the demesne, the Bodhisattva was stopped by unicorn monks outside who at first simply seemed surprised to see a pony approaching from somewhere other than the proper trail leading up the eastern side of the mountain. It was when the Bodhisattva came closer and his ghostflesh nature became impossible to hide that things got heated – but even then the deathknight was allowed to plead his case to the abbot in charge of the shrine:

“Gracious Abbott Weathered Granite, I have come to humble ask you for permission to meditate on the seat of Passiap”
Apparently the abbot wasn’t much for formalities, though Sullen Hoof noted that the unicorn had a very mumbly and gravely voice – either way the abbott demanded that the Bodhisattva be honest.

While the deathknight explained his plight, spinning a deceptively honest yarn about having been misled into darkness, corrupted, his mind addled and his body mutilated beyond all recognition – and him now seeking to reconnect to Creation and redeem his soul, the circle got a visit… of a sort.

Listening intently, or waiting with rapt attention for Sully or Shimmer to relay the conversation they were listening in on, none of the heavenly exalts noticed the stranger in their midst.

“Ahem” the pony said, clearing his throat in an unmistakably haughty tone.

Everyone spun around on the howdah to see who or what it was – that it was a pony stallion in monk garbs really didn’t surprise them, though Shimmer needed but one sniff in the pony’s direction to note: “Sidereal”

“And you’re a Lunar” the stallion replied, nodding to Shimmer – looking none too impressed.

Sullen Hoof remained either oblivious, or at least remained focused on listening in on the abbot and his mystery supplicant, while Cash moved to assume a martial stance – but Shimmer put a hoof up in front of him: “No, he knows well enough not to fight us – it would blow his cover, not just ours”

The Sidereal looked less than pleased but nodded: “True. Now please tell me why I just got a report of another sidereal coming up the
mountain…”

“How about we don’t – and in return we won’t tell anyone that you let a bunch of Solars sneak around here under your watch?” Cash retorted.
The Sidereal’s face flashed through a quick series of expressions, going from annoyance, to bemusement, to shock, before settling on abject horror: “Solars… plural?”

“Caste marks” Cash quipped. Everyone else – sans Sully – flashed their caste marks. The poor Sidereal looked like he was ready to wet himself.
Strutting forward and gently caressing the quivering stallion, Cash briefly nuzzled the monk-lookalike: “So… what’s it gonna be? A firesite chat, a little cuddle under the stars?”

Speaker threw a quick glance over at Shimmer who looked to be holding back a great deal of laughter.

Seventeen seconds later Cash and the Sidereal were down behind Nah doing all kinds of surprisingly not noisy things – and about fifteen minutes later again the Bodhisattva returned, draped in a monk’s garb. An immediately obvious change about him was that his ghost-flesh had become noticeably more opaque… but his gait had also become heavier, slower, appearing tired

“You ok? You look… different” Speaker asked, helping the deathknight up on Nah.

The Bodhisattva’s breath was labored, but he explained that his condition was on account of the revelation he had experienced at the climax of his meditation: “I saw two possible outcomes of my quest: Die a hero now and reincarnate a Solar, or seek a third breath using a golden lure”

“A golden lure… how fitting – alright, Cash, you ready back there?” Speaker called.

Cash, looking splendid and divinely fashionable as always in his heavenly silks – indeed Speaker suspected Cash of having struck a deal with the god of haut couture at some point, perhaps in a past life, to always look good – quickly bounded up to the howdah.

As Nah began to ‘walk’ up into the air, it left behind in its shadows a thoroughly messy pony on the ground… his monk’s robes bunched up to his shoulders, his hind quarters caked in dust and bodily fluids, his face smeared even more so, though the most noticeable thing about the poor soul was that he was splayed out unconsciously on the ground in a puddle of what was likely his own and Cash’s emissions – and he had the biggest smile ever on his face.

“Had fun?” Shimmer asked, chuckling ever so slightly.

Smiling, Cash shook his head in a pleased fashion: “The poor thing had been living in celibacy here for months… so pent up – he’ll have fun explaining that to the bronze faction”

“What about you Bhody?” Cash quickly asked, accompanied by a respectful nod.

While the Bodhisattva filled the circle in on how his story had moved the abbot to tears – a feat he had accomplished mainly due to the good intelligence he had received regarding the seat of Passiap and its administration. Evidently the Bodhisattva had been informed by the ghost of a unicorn that had served as monk there, along with a number of other denizens of Stygia which had described to the deathknight the sensation of being near the various elemental poles. It had been this wisdom which had allowed the Bodhisattva to judge if he was close enough to a pole for proper meditation.

“Neat, so now you’ve covered all five and we’re heading west for… what was it, the reflection of the moon on the sea? Is that the last part of your quest?” Cash wondered, as he flew Nah very quickly down the enormous mountain.

Passing through the poisonous ruins of old Meru in less than a second, the Bodhisattva acknowledged Cash’s statement: “Indeed, the ghost of a Lunar hinted that a path to the moon could be found in the west… the alternative is much worse”

Nobody dared ask what this worse alternative was, but Cash and Shimmer kept the Bodhisattva in polite conversation for a good while, all the
while Sullen Hoof scouted the evening horizon for any sign of skyships or other forms of airborne pursuit.

“Exactly how many ghosts did you talk about this in Stygia? Your quest here can’t exactly be that secret if you quizzed everyone down there about where you’ve been by now” Shimmer wondered, putting forth a quizzical hoof.

With a tired smirk, like a grandfather being asked the same question for the third time by a pertinent but lovable granddaughter, the deathknight looked to the heavens and pretended to breathe deeply: “Those I asked were not left with the memory of my inquiry… or I destroyed them – either way I ensured that my trail was clean. A lot of deathlord spies and informants already tracked me before I started this, so I made sure I was not tracked successfully”

“You weren’t” Speaker interrupted, his eyes closed and a firm hoof clenched around the bright glowing red and golden gemstone that was the sunhill hearthstone, its sharp facets and its warm light signaling resolve and dedication.

Shimmer instantly picked up the unease and dread in Speaker’s voice. Cash did as well, but he was busy controlling Nah as the flying yeddim roared down the mountainside at speeds that would make air elementals billow with envy.

Before Shimmer could ask, Speaker simply said: “There are deathknights at Sunhilll – they’re demanding we give them the Bodhisattva or they start killing ponies” as he sensed what was happening in and around the Sunhill manse, thanks to the powers of the Sunhill heartstone.

“I’m here… not there, and I don’t intend to be given to anyone – hostages or not” the Bodhisattva groaned, his ghost-flesh rippling aggressively.

The predicament was the simple but profound fact that upon completion of his meditation at Passiap’s seat the deathknight’s essence had been severed from the underworld – he no longer respired its dark essence, but he did not yet respire the essence of the living either… and his ghostflesh limbs still required a constant feed of essence to remain corporeal: Basically he would be running out of essence over the next few weeks, and without that to keep his head in existence he would die.

“I know – but they’re threatening to butcher all of Sunhill, to paint it in blood and entrails just to spite us… if we don’t cooperate” Speaker relayed, looking none too keen on observing such vile acts through the remote sight that the sunhill hearthstone gave him.
Grabbing Speaker by the shoulders and looking him straight in the eyes, Shimmer commanded: “Tell them to meet us on the moon!”

Shimmer’s logic was that if the deathknights wanted a shot at the bodhisattva, then they would have to work for it a bit themselves… also, there might just be a few things on the moon ideally suited to kicking the ever-loving shit out of unwanted guests.

“And we’re not unwanted, right?” Cash quipped jokingly.

Racing west at great speed, even if it meant zooming over the western half of the Blessed Isle like a golden comet blazing across the sky, shining so brightly that one might momentarily think there were two suns out.

To the circle’s surprise, then there were wasn’t much in military presence on the western end of the Blessed Isle – even the farming communities seemed more spread out. Sure, the land was still very pretty and far more fertile than the rest of Creation, but beyond that it was remarkably dull and uneventful territory to fly over.

Things got a bit more dicey when the circle crossed into the western ocean: The realm might not have had any skyships in the circle’s flight path that could intercept, but they did have plenty of naval facilities… and thus Cash quickly found that he had to soar high into the sky to avoid archers, horn-flung bolts of elemental essence and the odd ballista firing at them.

At greater heights it was only a few kinds of essence artillery that could reach them – though that didn’t really make things any safer, as implosion bow shots detonated in the air around them, sucking in air and everything else not nailed down into crushing vortexes of doom, or lighting ballista charges going off like burning cracks in reality, colored by whatever flavor of elemental essence was fueling each lightning ballista.

Still, the ships couldn’t in any way keep up with Nah – not even the few first age gunships they had could match their pace, though Nah got singed more than once.

By night-time everyone kept their eyes peeled: It was cloudy, annoyingly enough – but Shimmer managed to sniff out a few air elementals, and Cash ‘convinced’ them to clearing the sky around them for the rest of the night… they were looking for the reflection of the full moon – only problem was that it wouldn’t be full moon for a couple of days, and the Bodhisattva’s dwindling essence reserves wouldn’t last that long.

Speaker was able to help by lending his own essence to the deathknight, but this had the side effect of burning the Bodhisattva quite severely, as the essence of sunlight seared the ghostflesh until it was dimmed and turned into the deathknight’s own necrotic essence – thus this proved to be a viable but exceedingly uncomfortable way of keep the Bodhisattva alive.

At sundown on their second day of waiting the circle once more sprang into action, and the moment the full moon had risen Shimmer shivered, howled in joy and sprouted a head full of feathers… and directed Cash to fly Nah into the reflection on the moon in the water– not land on the reflection, but fly head-on into it.

Now, as Shimmer had explained things then this was all based on an old story she had been told at a western Lunar moot that her elders had taken her to. Indeed, this legend was why supposedly why every ship in the west, when out on the open sea, took great measures to avoid sailing into the reflection on the moon.

Speaker had his doubts – but they left him just as quickly as the water they splashed into did, as dry and breathable air replaced wetness. Even the sound of ocean waves roiling had faded into deafening silence in an instant.

Opening his eyes was a strange experience. Speaker could not recall having ever been on the moon, even in the first age. High up in the cloudless lunar ‘sky’ there were but grey ashen dust all around, pockmarked through and through by craters of various sizes.

“Hey Shimmer, I think that thing with ships staying away from the reflection… I think you were right on that” Sullen Hoof said, his voice betraying his surprise as he gestured down towards the ground.

Under the circle, down on the surface of the moon, was a small mountain of wrecked ships. The broken hulks looked smashed and twisted, though Shimmer quickly noticed a pattern in how the debris was scattered: “They all look like they fell from… up here”
“What did you expect? We appeared about a mile up in the… moon-sky” Cash noted, looking mostly as if he was pondering whether there was anything worth salvaging down on the surface.

Shimmer mostly looked horrified at the implications: “So many sailors falling to their deaths… if that was in creation it would be a shadowland by now”

The mention of creation reminded Shimmer of something, to which end she quickly noted: “That reminds me – while we’re here, I want all of you to limit your charm use… strictly speaking we’re not in Creation anymore, so the Solar mandate of heaven doesn’t apply here. This is Luna’s territory… and we are but guests”

Getting one’s bearings on the moon was difficult. Aside from the mountain of shipwrecks, then noteworthy landmarks were few and far between. The average surface landscape was one of plateaus of grey dust, flattened by myriads of half-faded craters.
“What caused all the craters? Can’t imagine it being old damage from the primordial war” Speaker wondered, while Shimmer scouted the horizon for… something.

Shaking her head while keeping her eyes peeled, Shimmer replied: “Nah, the moon passes through the wyld during the day remember? There are a lot of things to bump into… and crap, Cash – bank left!” Shimmer blurted out. Cash tugged Nah’s reigns mightily, causing the great beast to groan so that all of the beast rumbled. The yeddim peeled left, just as the ground before them erupted with writhing tentacles wrapped in shifting shadows and rapidly changing rainbow colors. The ground itself also changed, beginning to writhe and heave, as if breathing or chewing. All around them similar madness erupted, forcing Cash to take them high into the air.

Up in the air they saw how huge swaths of the moon’s surface was… well… being smeared in wyld energies and reacting accordingly. This was the function of the moon, so it really shouldn’t have surprised anyone – but that requires that one is a savant steeped in the mystical origins and functions of the moon. Changelings swarmed the place, with forms unlike anything that made any sense at all in Creation, undulating, writhing and looking a tad confused about what was going on.

To the circle it was quite terrifying seeing such a terrying host of changelings appear, though some relief did come as the lunar surface seemed to periodically turn itself inside out, swallowing up wyld zones and the changelings spawning in them, dragging the lot into the lunar underground screaming.

Whatever straggler changelings that didn’t fall into the chasms that had opened beneath them also soon seemed to be huddling together. It didn’t take a military strategist to recognize that they were taking up defensive positions… but against what?

“Ok, guys – whatever it is those changelings are trying to defend against, we want to talk to them – they can guide us to the silver chair” Shimmer exclaimed, sounding eerily enthusiastic about whatever beings she was referring.

Carefully going closer to the surface, the circle suddenly found that there were but dead changelings to be found. Whatever things had been killing the things was quick and had not left behind any trace of their passage – even examining the wounds via a changeling autopsy (something Speaker hadn’t exactly imagined that he would be doing on the trip) only revealed that they been slain with arrows, arrows that had been removed from the scene.

“Well isn’t that cute – Biddy and his buddies going sight-seeing” a haughty voice declared.

From the shadows of a pile of dead changelings stepped, followed by what looked like a good deal over three thousand ‘freshly’ animated mangled corpses that appeared plucked from the mountain of ruined ships. Sailor pony zombies, on the moon. Lovely.

“Just hoof over the traitor and we won’t do anything more than kill you” the same voice declared, this time coming from a mare clad in thick soulsteel armor. Each of the jagged plates writhed with tormented faces pressing themselves out against the surface of the material, and the deathknight wearing the plate appeared just as foreboding: Beautiful and pale, like a corpse painstakingly prepared for burial, with eyes so cold one’s soul might freeze and a long black mane tied up in a yard long braid.

Next to the armored deathknight two other abyssal exalted stepped forth, one covered in wrappings of stitched together hide that was etched in glowing runes to the point that only two sunken eyes were really visible, the other being similar to the Bodhisattva: All ghostflesh limbs and head, with a chest heavenly encased in thick soulsteel plate with a fancy amulet hanging around his neck.

“Anyone you know?” Shimmer calmly asked the Bodhisattva, never taking her eyes off the three deathknights.

The Bodhisattva nodded, gesturing towards the one who had spoken: “The Mare of the Mirthless Smile, one of the Mask of Winter’s more martially inclined. Not familiar with the other two”

“I know them” Sullen Hoof whispered, having already faded from view: “The wrapped one is the Harbinger of Dread Wisdom, necromancer.
The zombies are his doing. The Bodhisattva-knockoff’s name is Rice Blossom”

The ghost-fleshed Rice Blossom instantly flinched, as if some pain had been inflicted on him. He then angrily roared: “I renounced that old name! I am He who slays All Things Living and Holds No Fear!”

Speaker, Shimmer and Cash all smirked at the mentioned of the deathknight’s full title.

“Ya I figured you would love this” Sully whispered.

Rice Blossom didn’t get the joke – which only infuriated him even more so, though from his restraint it was clear that he was waiting for orders to attack.

Capitalizing on this lull in the moment, Cash stepped forth: “Well then Rice Blossom, you do realize that we were the ones who slew the last bearer of your exaltation?”

The ghost-fleshed deathknight remained outwardly calm at this revelation, but Cash’s charms of detecting subtle social signaling told him otherwise: “Oh, and we weren’t particularly impressed back then either… your masters really need to make a concerted effort if they want to make anything worthy out of you”

The indignant look in the blood-sphere eyes of the ghost-flesh deathknight was priceless, and both Shimmer and Speaker had to put some effort into not laughing. The Mare with the Mirthless Smile… well… she smiled, but it was an eerie and psychotic one, revealing teeth that looked just a little too uniform and pretty to be perfectly natural. The abyssal wrapped in hides groaned: “Just kill them – take the traiter alive”

The zombies lurched forward, breaking into a charge. On their limbs various crude weapons had been strapped, but Shimmer deftly caught the entire first wave in her magical web, swinging them around like a big smelly sack of groaning meat, then using that sack to whack the next two waves of zombies, before swinging the trapped zombies about herself and off into the distance. Three thousand zombies were now a bit under two thousand.

Rice Blossom did something to his hooves, making them project large bone spikes and claws. Crude, ugly, but clearly sharp and deadly, they made for excellent supplements to his punches and bucks… well, if he could land any of them, as Cash’s invincible ego shield made him a most elusive target.

The Mare with the Mirthless Smile approached the Bodhisattva more calmly, retrieving a grand soulsteel daiklaive from elsewhere. The massive six-feet long blade was oddly plain looking, appearing almost like a normal two-hoofed blade, only oversized as only the exalted could wield. Upon swinging it about her, its true nature was revealed: Flailing ghosts trailed after it, reaching, grabbing, faintly shrieking as they were drawn forth from the blade that had cleaved their souls from their mortal coils.

“Careful – she was always a better warrior than I was, loves to see her foes in pain” the Bodhisattva warned, stepping back to keep himself well out of reach – he knew that he didn’t have the essence to fight.

Shimmer quickly shifted into her warform, while Speaker prepared Gift and began to think of how to disarm his foe.

A sudden shriek saw the hide-wrapped abyssal drop, all the remaining zombies dropping to the ground as well. Sullen Hoof stood behind him, with a long green jade kitchen knife dripping with blood floating behind him.

“Wiser warriors would recognize unfavorable odd” Shimmer noted, as she stepped in between the Mare and the Bodhisattva.

The Mare with the Mirthless Smile didn’t answer, merely smiling unnervingly once more, then leaping high above Shimmer – still towards the Bodhisattva – while her floating blade swung for Shimmer, forcing Shimmer to parry the attacks.

It was then, as the Mare reached the peak of her leap, that Gift swung around and struck her from bellow. It harmlessly dinged into her armor – but the force conferred launched the Mare high into air.

Shimmer, wrestling with the blade in her attempt to hold on to it with her massive silvery claws, felt the pull on the blade as the Mare was struck, but managed to keep a tight grib – even if it meant letting the blade draw blood on her end – and to add insult to injury, she could feel the blade leeching her essence away from her.

At first the Mare didn’t seem terribly impressed by this attempt to disarm her. Reaching out with a hoof to the blade, she attempted to call it to her – but Shimmer managed to hold on tight, even as the blade nearly dragged Shimmer up into the air, but with large talons digging into the ground she went nowhere. Then the Mare noticed that she wasn’t really falling down… that was when she stopped smiling and called out: “Slayer! A little help!?” with a strangely plain and ordinary voice. No wonder she liked to stay silent.

Rice Blossom was furious. He was enraged. He was livid. Frothing a bloody foam around his ghost-flesh mouth, his ivory-while fangs gleaming whenever he threw his weight around and the foam was tossed aside to reveal them, as he kept up his futile attempts to strike Cash.

Cash Charmer, having long since recognized the tactical value of tying this one dangerous foe down so the rest of the circle could deal with their foes in peace, had merrily been insulting and taunting his foe using social charms to detect and then rib on everything that Rice Blossom held dear or disliked. There wasn’t the button he hadn’t pushed, to the point that Cash was quite certain that whoever got Rice Blossom’s exaltation next time around would likely exalt with an instant albeit explainable hatred of Cash just the same. Oh sure, his magical shoe-claws couldn’t do much of anything against the abyssal, but that… that didn’t seem to be needed, as Sully, Shimmer and Cash appeared to have things wrapped up on their ends. It was then that the Mare called out.

Looking up to see the Mare floating somewhat helplessly in the air, Rice Blossom shot Cash a quick look that was very much meant to kill – for dark fire blasted out of his eyes but, like everything else, simply missed – before he turned to Shimmer and Speaker.

“We can’t disarm that – and we know how tough the ghost-flesh is. Any ideas?” Speaker said to Shimmer.

Still struggling a bit to keep the Mare’s grand daiklaive in her grasp, Shimmer hastily answered: “No clue, but I’m busy keeping this thing down – you and Sully figure something out”

“Hey Rice Blossom – don’t you think going up against three Solars is a bad idea? How about you just surrender and we help you become a Solar as well?” Sullen Hoof inquired, drawing out a large cast iron pot from elsewhere to throw.
The deathknight sneered at Sullen Hoof, grabbing an amulet of smoky quartz and rusty iron around his neck: “Say my name one more time you sneaky little bitch”

“What? Not afraid that it might break another of your toys back in your fortress?” Sullen Hoof retorted haughtily.
Speaker recalled that the Bodhisattva had mentioned something about deathknights being punished, somehow, if their old mortal name was used when speaking to them – something about the Neverborn punishing them for maintaining that ‘link’ to the world of the living, one of the reasons they all used titles in lieu of names.

“Don’t – he wants you to say it, something about the amulet and reinforcements” Cash quickly pointed out, having sensed the motive behind the deathknight’s statement.

Sullen Hoof nodded, but the deathknight didn’t seem particularly deterred: “Well if you won’t – then I will. Rice Blossom!”
Chains of old iron shot out from the ground, covering the deathknight in almost an instant, followed by lightning coursing through the lot and the abyssal roaring in pain... but the amulet he wore around his neck – the lighting fed into it, and before anyone could do much, the amulet shot a beam of necrotic essence forth, blasting a massive hole in reality right before Rice Blossom. The portal was about big enough to fit forty ponies side by side, and seemed to eat light around it. Even looking at it hurt one’s eyes, for this was not something that should exist.

A rusty trumpet sounded from beyond the portal, followed by the rhythmic sound of marching hooves which only grew louder…

Rice Blossom laughed as the lightning abated, his ghost-flesh seared and burned with marks of white-hot chain links all over him: “How about three Solars against an endless tide of death?”