The Tale of the Grim Reaper
Pre-Classical Era (Before the first Hearth's and Hooves Day)
"Mother! Mother!" a young, weak voice echoed out through the fierce blizzard. A small colt stumbled and fell into the snow, freezing, exhausted, and terribly lost. He hadn't meant to stray so far from home, hadn't meant to get caught out in the blizzard. He shook and coughed roughly as he tried to call for help again. He couldn't do it. He couldn't go back home to his mother. Stumbling once again, he found himself too weak to rise. He tried to shout once more before his eyes closed.
Suddenly, he awoke. He couldn't feel his body, couldn't feel anything. He felt alive, yet weightless, and as he looked around he saw nothing but a hazy void surrounding him. He couldn't move, couldn't speak. He was terrified. Was he dead? Was this the afterlife? Where was he?
Then, as if in answer of his questions, a bright light shown before him. He couldn't help but gaze as it took shape, and soon found himself staring at the most beautiful creature he'd ever seen. So much taller than he, so regal looking, with a long spiraling horn and wide spread wings. An alicorn of legend, like from the stories mother would tell him? She was beautiful, her body made up of mist and her eyes glowing spheres. The alicorn stood and gazed back at him silently, before trotting over to him. She nuzzled his cheek, and somehow he felt it. Then, she leaned down and kissed his forehead. And then, her words rang clear in his head before it all faded away...
Awaken. You will see me again.
With that, he awoke next to a roaring fire, gasping for breath. He was home, and though his body hurt, he was very much alive. Suddenly, he found himself wrapped in his mother's limbs as she squeezed him like only a worried mother could.
"Oh my son! My darling son! I'm so glad you're alive! You're lucky we found you in time!"
She continued to dote on him as he pondered what he had seen. Should he tell her? She'd probably tell him it was just a dream... but it felt like so much more than that! That alicorn... he would see her again. He had to! He had to see that beautiful being again!
His mother sat him down with a stern glare. "You are no longer allowed out without somepony to watch you, young colt. Do you understand?" He nodded, and she smiled. "Good. Now come along, you've been out for sometime, and I think it's about time you got some food in you!"
He nodded once again as he shakily followed his mother. He would find that alicorn again someday. He swore on his father and mother. He swore on his name. He would find her, if his name wasn't Grim Reaper.
A year later, the colt found himself at the funeral of his aunt. He had always hated her. She was rude to him, cruel to him, always treated her own son better than she did him. And she was so ugly all the time, the way she would sneer at him. A part of him was glad she was gone. He'd never have to deal with the old witch again.
It came his turn to walk up to the coffin to pay his final respects, and as he did so, he looked at her pallid corpse and realized something. She looked better like this. She almost looked beautiful, now that the life had left her. He realized that life was ugly. That he found true beauty in death. It was that moment that his calling came to him. An image of a skull adorned his charcoal flank, arousing a collective gasp of dread and awe from the funeral goers who saw.
To earn ones special mark on a day of tragedy was considered a bad omen for the pony's future. It was thought to be a sign that the pony's talent would do them in. But deep down, Grim Reaper grinned at his fortune. It brought him a step closer to his goal and showed him he was on the right path...
Over the next few years, Grim practiced and experimented with what he found to be his new passion in life: death. He took small animals he captured and practiced the many ways to kill them. First he started simply. Drowning. Strangling. Burning. Then he moved on to poisons, the more painful it seemed the better. Then... when he was barely a stallion, he first experimented with blades. And hammers. He cut, he crushed, he maimed. He tested to see how long animals could live without limbs, or how long it took blood to drain from their bodies. He studying and practiced gleefully in the secrecy of his shed, always careful to hide his work.
It felt good. It felt amazing to him to experiment with life and death. He felt... like an artist. He was the painter, and his victims were the canvas. He reveled in death, worshiped it. It was his only reason for living, ironically enough. He had to know everything about death. He felt that each step would bring him closer to his goal of joining with that never forgotten alicorn he had seen in that misty void. He had a promise to keep, after all!
He killed his first pony as a young stallion. A thief had snuck into his shed while he was away, but hadn't escape in time to avoid capture. Grim tortured him, made the death as slow and painful as possible. He wanted to test the limits of the average pony. He cut off a limb and let it fester. He broke another limb as thoroughly as possible. He removed the stallion's teeth one by one, and gouged out his eye. Over the course of a week, he continued to torture this stallion until he'd finally passed on. From that moment onward, Grim Reaper focused all of his energy on finding suitable ponies, ones who wouldn't be missed, to test and torture. They became his new canvases. And with that, he became the first serial killer in recorded Equestrian history.
Grim stared in concentration at the freshly made corpse in front of him, focusing all his attention on a spell. He'd been studying for months, studying all he could about life magic from the newly built library in the new colony of Trottingham, in the recently formed united nation of Equestria. He'd welcomed the change as he'd moved away from Unicornia. So many more opportunities for test subjects, and in the strange new wilderness who knew what dangers could befall a lone pony.
His focus had changed after he began to consider the future. He had to do more. He needed to go further into death, further than any pony had before. He had ideas... ideas that not only would further his goals, but also could ensure him a higher place in society. But first, he just had to make it work. This was his third try today. He had to make it count. With a determined glare, he cast his revised spell, watching as the magic enveloped the corpse. After a moment it faded, and nothing happened. Then, just as he was about to give up hope, a twitch. The body moved, and gave a brief groan, before falling back to lifeless death.
He'd done it. Even if just for a second, he'd brought the dead back to life. He'd done what had been theorized but never proven. He'd conducted necromancy.
He continued to refine his spell until it was perfect. The corpse had no real sentience of its own left, but the magic kept it from decaying and made it intelligent enough to obey simple tasks. He further branched off of this, learning how to make a body repeat the actions it did right before death, and how to view and converse with spirits. He even learned how to contact the dead to speak for a time. He'd accomplished his goals, he'd become Equestria's first necromancer.
Grim immediately presented his creation to the board of the most prestigious university available, and they were amazed. He'd created a new branch of magic and proven himself to be a skilled magician. And so the now grown stallion was given a place as a professor so that he could share his knowledge. Grim Reaper, professor of Necromantic Studies.
One day in Grim's class, he saw a young mare with a look in her eyes. A look he remembered well. He remembered her name, Lullaby, and remembered that her talent was putting foals to sleep. Strange that one with such a talent would sign up for a class dedicated to death. He held her after class and confronted her, and found her asking many questions. Many involving the best ways to kill somepony quickly, quietly, and painlessly. And Grim Reaper, always willing to share his knowledge, took her under his metaphorical wing, promising to teach her all he could.
Soon more and more ponies began to flock to his 'other' lessons, the ones he held late at night in secret places. He taught them, his acolytes, about the wonders of death, about the proper ways to present oneself as a serial killer. He taught them to treat their work as an art. To always abide by their personal standards, to always do as they liked. He taught them to worship death as he did. Lullaby, who would smother sickly foals out of pity. Brutus, who liked to blindfold ponies before smashing their skulls in. And many more. All swore their loyalty and admiration to him and his ways. They called themselves the Reapers, in his honor. And they would always take his lessons to heart.
Finally, he day came. He was an old stallion now. He had been growing frail in body but not spirit for some time. He'd spent the past few years working on his final masterpiece, the ultimate necromantic spell. The spell that would ensure his goals...
The spell that would unite him with his one true love.
Standing in the middle of his summoning circle, with Lullaby, his first Reaper, his most trusted confidant, standing by watching. He cast his spell, his magnum opus, and felt the cold rush of death as he was ripped from the mortal realm. All went black, before he found himself drifting once more in that empty void, still in his flesh and blood body. And she stood there, waiting for him. His misty alicorn, just as beautiful as he remembered.
I have been waiting. You have done well, Grim Reaper.
He grinned at her, then opened his mouth to speak. No words came. Instead, he briefly gagged as suddenly his body ceased up.
You have proven yourself worthy.
He felt his body begin to contort in strange ways, twisting and bending unnaturally. He screamed in pain as he stretched out, flesh and bone and muscle rapidly and painfully developing to fill the gaps.
Worth of being my equal.
He felt himself flooding with power as the transformation ended. He was no longer a pony. Now, now he was one of the other legendary beings. He was a draconequus, a spirit of evil. He felt... amazing! So much power coursing through him!
Worthy of being... my counterpart.
He jolted, feeling a sudden pain throughout his body. He lifted a claw, only to find the flesh melting away from it, leaving nothing but bone. He screamed out in agony as all over his body his tissue stripped and decayed away from him.
For just as I represent peaceful deaths...
He felt a crack as in his struggle he broke of his hip, causing his legless skeleton to drop. In the fall, he cracked off a horn, leaving not only skeletal, but broken at that. He had no living parts, yet he was staying together, and he could still see and hear and move.
... you, Grim Reaper, shall represent violent deaths.
He found himself drifting upright, levitating himself up. Even in this decrepit form, he still felt the power, flowing through his bones. He could feel it manifesting itself, and with it, he summoned forth a cloak of darkest shadow, and a scythe sharp enough to cut the souls of the dead.
You are the Grim Reaper. Reaper and Guide to the victims of violent deaths. Do you take this role as one of the guardians of the dead? Do you swear to spend the rest of your extended life serving Fate by severing the ties of the dead and helping them move on to the hereafter? Do you promise to take this role until there are no longer any souls to reap? Do you?
He floated there, in his new form, staring at the object of years of affection. She was still beautiful. After a moment of rolling the idea around his skull, he finally spoke.
I do.
Lullaby sat in her teacher's office, still staring at the place he had been. It didn't seem real. He had really done it. He had ascended to the realm of the dead. She was happy for him. So very happy. And yet, she missed him. He was like the father she had never had. The father that could have helped her save her baby sister from dying a slow, painful death... She shook herself out of her woes. She had to leave before day break. She couldn't be caught here.
As she turned to leave, she sensed a presence behind her. She spun around, and saw a dark, tall entity wielding a wicked looking scythe. All she could see of this hooded figure's body was the front of a fanged horse skull peeking out from the hood, as well as the glow of two red, flickering eyes.
Lullaby...
"... M-master?"
Yes... I have ascended... to something much higher than I could have ever dreamed... tell the Reapers... tell my children...
"Yes, Master?"
Tell them.. to always follow my teachings... spread my teachings to acolytes of their own... keep the Reapers alive... and always remember... you have my blessing... in life...
Lullaby watched in awe as her former master began to sink into a pool of shadow.
... And in death...
And with that, he was gone. Lullaby blinked away a tear before grinning to herself. "I will, master. We are your Reapers. We shall always carry your story. And someday, we will see you on the other side. But until then, we will kill in your honor! This, I swear!" With that, she ran off to spread the word, leaving behind the cold, empty room.
