Forlorn institute for the Criminally Criminal
Introduction to the institute
“Darkness does not come into this world on its own, it is a manifestation of our inner sins and the worst of our crimes given form. But there is no creature to blame, no demon pulling your strings. Your darkness is a choice and one you alone shall pay for.” - Forlorn institute for the criminally criminal memorial of the fallen.
There is a slight buzz to be heard as an intercom erupts to life, a gravely voice begins to speak through the darkness. “Good day. I am Forlorn hope, head of Equestria’s maximum security prison. We are located in the center of the gulf just west of manehatten, east of the country of Gildedale and north of Glascow. For miles and miles around my little penitentiary there is nothing but freezing cold water, sharks, and watch towers with some of the best elite pegasus snipers in Equestria. Now Equestria officially doesn’t condone the death penalty, it wouldn’t do to have the Kingdom of Harmony allow such cruel things to befall even the worst scum. You may believe you’ve been sent to Tartarus like the monsters you all are, but you are wrong. You were sent to me.” Silence fills the halls, leaving the lightless room still. Some whispering can be heard around, barely loud enough to break the yawning void.
Again the intercom blares back to life the same gravely voice speaking. “Now what is a maximum security prison I bet you're wondering? Is it a place ponies are sent to for solitary confinement until we turn them into upstanding members of society? If your answer is yes, then you're dead wrong. No, those sent here are the irredeemable. The depraved souls unworthy to live in the glorious kingdom under the radiant sun and brilliant moon. In darkness these souls have lived and in darkness their lives will end. To my father 8 shall be sent by my hoof and Antionette.”
Two gates begin to rise bringing light into the cold dark cell where 8 ponies were trapped. One way is a clear looking hall, the other holds a lone stallion standing only on his hind legs. His forehooves are raised above his head, hefting an axe as large as a pony is tall. As if by cue, he falls forward, throwing the axe whistling through the air to embed itself into the skull of one of the ponies. “Run for me.” The stallion falls onto all four, charging forward before his first victim could hit the stone floor. One dares to try and go for the axe as the rest flee. The first pegasus of the group seems to miss the ‘no flying above 20 feet’ and ‘no teleporting over chasms’ signs, for no sooner had she crossed that invisible boundary did she freeze, attempting to struggle against the air. Her screams were reduced to gurgles before falling silent, her last sound being a cascade of wet slaps as her pieces rained onto the floor. Silvery, near invisible wires shone in the dull light, dripping blood above their most recent victim. The nearest, the stallion who had gone for the axe, barely managed a whimper before he was slammed to the ground. The Warden hefted his axe, effortlessly sinking the sinister blade into the brave fool’s chest. His scream of agony was cut off just as suddenly, the Warden’s hoof came down onto his head with a crunch and a splat. Gore and bits of bone painted the floor from two bodies, a trail following the Warden’s slow pursuit. He replaced his axe onto his back, stopping to stare at his goresoaked hoof as a calm smile started to spread across his face. “Oh how we love the chase, my dear Antoinette.”
