The Scroll of Exalted Ponies

Looking at Cash Charmer on top of the ore cart, using essence sight, Speaker could hardly see a thing from all the intervowen charms that Cash was using to boost the alluring nature of his speech. Heck, at least one of the charms was making it difficult to even ignore him… and around the circle, around the ore cart that Cash stood on, a throng of ghosts quickly began to assemble as both slaves, slave-drivers and metal-worker ghosts drew near, pulled in by the impossible-to-resist words of the Solar in their midst.

“I see many good souls here today. Some who do not wish to be here, and others who are so dead inside that they might as well have already passed on. I am Cash Charmer, chosen of Celestia, and I have great news to all of you!” Cash went on.

Sullen Hoof pointed out that the three groups of guards were so far just listening. Speaker wondered how large Stalwart’s garrison for the district might be… and how often slave riots took place.

“Many of you might be too young to have ever heard of us, but the oldest among you might know: There were once great golden champions of pony-kind that ruled and defended all of Creation – and I’m here to tell you all that we’re back!” Cash continued.

Speaker spotted a group of ghosts at the edge of the gathering, running away. They would likely spread the news of the happening. Looking around he could only see Shimmer – Sullen Hoof had disappeared to somewhere else.

“Now, we the chosen of Celestia, the chosen of perfection and of virtue, we are here to make Creation a better place. Since the Great Contagion many have spoke of a second age, the age of sorrows, but that ends now! I am heralding the beginning of a new third age, a new beginning – and I want all of you to join us” Cash said – weaving hope and elation into his every word.

It was plain to see the hopes of the slaves rising, many of them seeing their salvation in sight. A few defiant ones in the slave-wagons had even begun to cheer, being out of reach of the cruel soulsteel whips of their masters. Of course, whether that was because they genuinly believed in what Cash was saying, or because of how his charms were adding emotional suggestions to his words... that was harder to tell.

“I speak plainly as a pony to peers here. I want to see you all happy and without fear. With my gifts and exaltation I will strive to give this to all of you – but I cannot give this to you here, for I a ruler of the living, not the dead. Yet there is hope for you all: I implore you all who can hear me, join me in life as reborn souls! Cast of the chains that have been put on you, reject the threats of the Deathlord and show them that you are masters of your own fate!” Cash shouted, the tens of thousand ghost slaves cheering on before a lot of rattling chains replaced the sound of their voice.

Halfway through Cash’s oration all of the slaves in earshot, and quite a few of the other ghosts present – regardless of whether they were slave drivers or metal-workers, simply up and vanished, their ghostly forms having faded away as they fled to reincarnation. With essence sight Speaker could tell that their souls were speeding upwards – towards the heavens of the underworld, towards Lethe to be washed clean of memories and towards reincarnation. It was a beautiful sight to behold, and just as he wiped a tear from his eyes he hear Shimmer sniffle as she, in her beast-pony form, had seen the same wondrous sight.

“Come on gang – we’re taking this show on the road!” Cash said, jumping of the ore cart which now had no ghosts to haul it, as he began to gallop over the now almost empty square.

The circle trotted at a calm pace up one of the largest streets of the district, Cash loudly proclaiming his merry message to all the ghosts that could hear. Everywhere slaves vanished, their chains falling to the ground empty, and many a ghostly artisan and coal-pusher who had quietly resented their master’s choice of allegiance also took Cash’s message to heart, opting to let their first and final act of defiance be that of depriving Stalwart and his deathlord allies of their skill and labor.

It was only the most driven or obsessed ghosts that rejected Cash’s message – but most of them just quietly ignored him, with but a few voicing objections or shouting obscenities in return.

Five minutes later the first few squads of war-ghosts turned up - but they too heard Cash’s message and chose to join him in Creation instead of fight him in the name of the deathlords. It was when seventy zombies led by a mad ghost who’s corpus had seemingly been shredded and then glued back together with clotted blood that Shimmer and Speaker finally had to fight, but the mad ghost quickly fell to Speaker’s spirit slaying charm and Gift’s many cutting edges, while Shimmer tore through the decaying zombie flesh with ease.

As the circle continued on, going from factory to factory and liberating its slaves and some of the workers, more zombies were sent against them. Shimmer seemed certain that some of the zombies might have be the bodies of the very slaves they were freeing.

Leaving the streets behind them strewn with the torn remains of decaying and shredded zombie-pony flesh, soaking in pools of fetid blood and bile, the circle never noticed the hidden figures that were chucking piles of nails and maggots into the zombie remains.

At the edge of the district the circle came upon a magnificent mansion decked out in colorful yellow and blue lanterns. The soulsteel columns that stood at its front constantly writhed as the tortured souls forged into the metal forced imprints of their bodies out into the surface of the metal, while heavily perfumed plants made of colored silk paper stood around in massive basalt pots. This was the home of someone with wealth who did not fear flaunting it.

On a balcony from the third floor of the mansion which overlooked the square, the ghost of a middle-aged pony stallion stepped forth. He had a short-cropped iron-gray mane, though his features denoted him as a soul originally from the south of Creation. He wore a thick great-coat which was richly decorated with ornately bound silver chains: “Who dares interrupt my business!?”

Lord Stalwart’s bellowing voice rang out like that of an accusatory slave-driver, but the circle didn’t fret. Cash stepped forth: “I understand you’ve been putting your business above the good of your wards here – that’s not a nice way to run a public office”

The ancient ghost’s eye glowed bright with ivory light as Lord Stalwart gnashed his teeth: “You little shit! I will have you moliated into a chamberpot!”

“I didn’t think ghosts had to poo” Cash quipped back at the angry district lord.

The greasy coat that hung around the old ghost seemed to rise ever so slightly as the ghost drew breath to shout something back at Cash – but the Eclipse Caste didn’t give him time, instead shooting a claw from his magic shoes up at the Lord, intending on yanking the old bag of wind down to the ground to teach him a lesson…

With deft grace Lord Stalwart effortlessly moved out of the way, catching the chain that the claw was connected to with a massive six foot blade of black jade and then yanking Cash up to him instead! Cash barely managed to loosen the chain enough that he was instead pulled up to the railings at the edge of the balcony, but at as his forehooves took hold of the top of the railings Stalwart in turn took hold of his hooves, with skeletal centipedes shooting out of Stalwart’s greatcoat sleeves that locked themselves around Cash’s forehooves.
“Now look on as your friends are ripped apart” Stalwart hissed through his teeth.

From every street connected to the square the circle was in grotesque creatures began to pour in: They looked very much like the zombies that the circle had already dispatched, but now they were nailed together – poorly so – their bodies mainly held together by what appeared to be webs spun by the writhing maggots that were devouring the things from inside… and this shambling horde of already destroyed undead, with nary a leg pointing the right way, heads flailing around wildly, looked hungry.

“Well that’s no fun – say, while they’re dealing with your minions down there, how about we have a little chat?” Cash offered slyly, as Stalwart’s eyes glowed with pale ivory light while he floated his great blade into position to lop Cash’s head off.

His jade blade poised to strike, Stalwart smirked: “I don’t know about chatting – but if you would like a few last words before rising as a ghost for my soulsteel forges I’m all ears”

Cash threw a brief glance down into streets then smiled back at Stalwart: “If you don’t mind, then I might need a moment to think of something suitable witty for that”

Down in the streets Sullen Hoof had reappeared in the midst of the cobbled-together undead, disguised as another undead being…. But surrounded by his telltale whirlwind of cleavers and kitchen knives. The cobblers around him were too dumb to recognize Sully as a threat, so they just kept on shuffling towards Speaker and Shimmer who were busy picking off cobblers at range.

Speaker and Shimmer each had a very different tactic, which showcased their different approaches to problem solving quite well. Speaker, using essence sight, had noticed that the iron nails holding the undead pony corpses together were the mediums through which the necrotic essence that animated the things flowed – so he used Gift to slice through these, targeting central nails that held together key joints around the spine and legs, so that the cobblers simply fell to pieces that couldn’t really move on their own. He was also doing this while balancing on-top of Shimmer…

Underneath, Shimmer was using the strength in her beast-pony form to rip up the cobblestone she was standing on and shape-shift them into similarly heavy stone blades that she swung around herself using her incandescent essence-string – this she did with one forelimb. Whatever cobblers that were chopped or smashed to bits by her blade were in turn tangled up in more essence-string, which she handled with her other forelimb.

All in all it looked almost like a strange mix between an art installation with a spinning bird monster that shot out webbing and swung a stone sawblade around itself, with a pony standing on top if that kept throwing a disk back and forth. Cash didn’t really know whether to ask Speaker for a statue with a similar motif back in Sunhill, or to just laugh.

The ancient ghost that was Stalwart, the ghost who’s grim deeds and alliance with the deathlords was no secret, the hated master of the district built to mirror the geomancy of the constellation of the Bearer of Chains, was not amused. He had planned to see Cash despair at the sight of his friends being torn to pieces – not smiling in amusement over how his friends were ripping several hundreds of cobblers apart!

His eyes glowing with dour light, Stalwart willed his jade blade to cut at Cash – but despite Cash not even moving, and Stalwart having aimed his blade perfectly for the pony’s throat, he still somehow missed…

Trying again, he missed – and down in the streets three dozen cobblers fell. Enraged Stalwart swung the blade again, missing – and down in the streets the cobblers were now down to a tenth of the horde that had originally approached the circle. Furious Stalwart was about to swing again when Cash not only parried the blade with a blade from a suddenly freed hoof, but he yanked the blade away from Stalwart who shrieked in horror as the blade flew down into the square.

The strangest thing happened as the blade fell: Several dozen ghosts braved the stone blades swung by Shimmer – though many were caught in it and had their ghostly bodies turn asunder – all of them trying to get to the blade.

Down in the square Shimmer wasn’t slow to pick up what was going on and yanked the black jade great-sword to her, using her essence-threads. The ghosts stopped instantly and sped back to their homes the instant that Shimmer held the blade in her talons… indeed, even the mighty Stalwart seemed to lessen in a strange sort of way. Cash could feel the ghosts’ grip on his other forehoof weaken, allowing him to free it – though it he still needed it to hold on to the railing lest he fall down.

It was then that Stalwart leapt over Cash – but there was absolutely nothing natural about the way in which Stalwart’s joints contorted or how his muscles flexed, landing right in front of Shimmer, roaring with incalculable malice. His eyes glowed with a luminescent bloody mist, as glittering silvery lights drew in from Shimmer to Stalwarts mouth – the ghost eating part of her essence simply by being so close to her. For a brief moment Stalwart stood still, like a corpse riveted to the gore-strewn cobblestone – but in the next split second he was a blur of speed, reappearing behind Shimmer just as lunged at him with her massive beak… and then, like a ghost wrought of blood and spite Stalwart splashed over her back, only to contract and reform, ripping at her bone-armor violently and repeatedly, cracking open the carapace in many places with sickeningly wet and bloody sounds. Speaker in turn was thrown off, landing hard on the coble even as he stuck the landing, his hooves aching as the very rocks the street was paved seemed to hit back to harm him as much as possible.

Shimmer screamed as she felt the chill of the grave race through her veins. Speaker could see it quite clearly as he groaned in pain, Shimmer shivering and her muscles briefly stiffening completely. This bought Stalwart all the time he needed to raise a hoof that had dissolved into plasmic claws around bone talons stolen from murderous beasts… get nailed in the head by one of Cash’s claw projectiles.

“I think that’s quite enough of you” Cash said as he jumped down and gestured for Shimmer fork over the grand daiklaive she had caught from Stalwart. The remaining cobblers began to fall apart around them, collapsing into the piles of hewn flesh, severed bones, maggots and iron nails that they were made of, and everywhere ghosts of all shapes and sizes were peeking out – curious to see what was going on…
Behind one pile of cobbler-remains stood Sunrise and The Bodhisatva. The deathknight looked at Cash with despair: “Do you have any idea what you have done?!”