The Discordian Games

by Peregrine Caged

Rating: mature
Tags: Discord, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Original Character
Length: 90021

In Equestria's far past, when the Chaos lord ruled, in a fit of boredom he has summoned warriors and desperate souls from all of Equestria--from anywhere and anywhen they come to fight to the death in his Arena for their ultimate heart's desire.

This is an active original character competition, which means you the reader get to ultimately decide the winner, directing how the story will go! Help out the amazing authors who are putting their characters and their skills to the test to see who will reign supreme.

Read the Fights and Vote Here

Greetings, my adoring fans! Greetings, my subservient slaves! Greetings to you, from your lord and master...

Oh yes, it is I, Discord.

Hold your applause, please. I know I am great. I know you long to worship me. But, please, on to business.

For your entertainment, I have used my amazing abilities to bring to you the greatest spectacle Equestria has ever seen. Sixteen poor souls, recruited from all corners of the nation, not to mention from all points in history, have been brought together to duke it out in my Chaos Arena. And they are an interesting bunch, I'll say. One by one, they will be eliminated until the most cunning, most powerful, most desperate--or perhaps simply the luckiest--stands alone, triumphant. True, it will be upon a mound of corpses, after trials and tribulations that will test their ruthlessness and sanity... But that's just plain good fun, don't you think?

I do this, after all, for you. The common ponies. And you will watch. And you will enjoy. And, in fact, I feel... You will ultimately decide who the true victor is. So watch, pick your favorite, and cheer them on as hard as you can. It could be the difference between their victory and their ultimate demise.

And when the last one stands, to that I promise this. With my great power I will not only send them home, but they shall be granted the one thing they desire above all others. No matter what that may be.

Let the Games begin! And may the best pony entertain us the most.

A collaboration by Peregrine Caged.
Art by the awesomely skilled Ayemel.

Rated M for violence and language, as well as dark and adult themes in various places. Violence will not include Gore.

All characters' owners will remain anonymous until the Games are over, to help even the playing field between popular authors vs. unknowns. All credit will be given once a winner is decided.

Published 2015-04-04 00:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-19 19:42:55 UTC

Breaking Terribly: Equestrian Horror Story (Loss)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Trailblazer/Surefooted's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Breaking Terribly: Equestrian Horror Story (Loss)

Motor Mind closed the door behind him laughing. He was told to win a fight against somepony or other. He didn’t exactly see who the competition was, but it was probably some unicorn mage.

“Ya, I’m sure I saw a couple of unicorns in the group. I think. Kinda wish I was paying more attention to the other contenders than wondering exactly how a creature like that was made.” As he made his way into the new room the door behind him fell flat and melted into a puddle with only a doorknob floating around.

“Well that’s something you don’t see every day,” he said as he inspected where the door once was, poking a hoof at the remaining puddle. Bright white lights shone on his burgundy coat, making him very hot. He tried waving his dull gold tail in an attempt to cool himself off. His helmet’s green lenses began to fog up, so he failed to notice the puddle evaporate, until only the doorknob was left. As suddenly as the heat had arrived, it left, cooling him off instantly. The doorknob rolled to the other side of the room and jumped up forming a new door.

Motor Mind hesitantly walked through the new door to find himself inside a cave. It was dark and smelled of death and rusting metal. As his night vision activated he heard some shrieking cries in the distance.

Discord’s voice announced from seemingly nowhere: “Welcome, friends, to round one. By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.” There was a pause before he added, “Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

As Motor Mind walked down the tunnels, he started to speak to himself. “Well this cave blows. I mean honestly, where are the creepy creatures? The magical mage fighting me? The dangerous traps?” As he spoke, he was looking around the dark room with his night vision. Without warning, he stopped in front of a small, flat rock.

“Primitive,” he said as he stepped over the obvious trap and found a pile of dead bodies. A closer inspection of the bodies revealed them to have been shot in the neck with some sort of poison dart.

“Probably walked right into that trap, the poor souls. Let us have a moment of silence for those who lost their lives.“ After about five seconds he broke the silence.

“Well, enough of that, I have a dangerous rival to fight.” He continued to walk past the dead bodies, making sure not to step on any of them, when the tunnel opened up into a sort of underground military complex. The floor changed from a rocky, cave floor to a dusty metal one. There were all sorts of crates and boxes labeled ‘Danger’, filling up the room, making it hard to navigate. The ceiling had a few stalactites hanging low, threatening to fall if they were so much as looked at the wrong way.

Loud clangs rang out every time he took a step; his steel horseshoes banging against the metal floor. But even his hoofsteps, echoing as they did down the hallways, were not the only noise. A loud mass of moans and the sound of hooves were heard coming his way. As the sound got closer Motor Mind prepared himself for whatever opponent he might face. He had seen a number of unicorns among the other contestants; maybe one of them knew a spell to duplicate itself, or summon others.

“Those dirty magical cheaters!” He took the most menacing stance he could take and prepared his Rainbow Shotgun (patent pending), a boom-stick powered by rainbows to fire gem shrapnel. He expected his enemy to come in spells blazing, possibly with an army of whatever was moaning, but what came surprised him instead.

At the front of the pack was a two-headed pony. It (They?) appeared to be in its teens, had a sienna-colored coat, and forest green manes and tail. Each head had a different hair style; the first cut to loose uneven lengths, and the other was straight and even. Their tail had been braided and was flapping away, a few feet in front of the other ponies chasing them. The mob itself was made up of about seven ponies, but they looked different. They all had greyish coats, no cutie marks, and their eyes lacked any irises.

“Well fancy that! A two-headed pony!” he said. “And creepy monster zombie ponies! This is starting to look more and more like a real cave after all.”

He noticed that the two in the front seemed to be running away from the monsters and started to wonder. “How did those foals get here? It must be another of Discord’s prisoners! That monster, how dare he put children in danger?”

Motor Mind prepared himself as the mob of creatures came at him.

“Insert badass one liner here later.”

\—D—/

Trailblazer and Surefooted had just finished their mental preparations and passed through a door, when they ended up in a cave. The cave was full of dripping stalactites forming a large pool of water, which the twins were currently standing in. The cave was also full of tiny sounds, such as dripping water and noisy crickets, making the creepiness of dead silence, when it happened, even creepier.

Then Discord broke the silence with his distinct amused indifference, giving his little announcement.

“Yuck,” Trailblazer said as she tried to climb out of the water and onto a rock in the middle of the water. “Where are we anyway? It’s so dark in here I can’t see a thing!”

Surefooted surveyed the surroundings with her superior eyesight and hearing. Despite the fact that there was little light in the cave, Surefooted was able to see well enough to take note of everything around them.

Surefooted started swatting her hoof in front of her and moaning, while making a drooling face. “You hear some sort of threat deeper in the cave?” Trailblazer asked her sister in response. The twin responded by vigorously shaking her head yes.

“Well, we will want to avoid that, do you see a way around?”

Surefooted started to analyze the walls, trying to find some sort of switch or a torch to help light the way. Trailblazer understood what her sister was doing and started doing the same. Trailblazer was about to give up, when her hoof sunk into the wall, activating a secret button.

“Hey, I think I found something,” she told her sister. The room started to shake and a gurgling noise was heard as the water level began to lower. “It’s draining the water!” Trailblazer said.

As the water finished draining, the floor was revealed to be made of metal, having some sort of hatch that the water was hiding. The sisters approached it cautiously and debated opening it.

“Should we go down there?” Trailblazer asked. Her sister gave her a look that said, “Really?”and pointed to where the threatening noise was heard. “Point taken,” she said as they started to open the hatch.

Dim light started to pour into the room as they opened the hatch. Trailblazer looked inside to see that the other side was some sort of artificial tunnel made of metal. The only way down the hatch was a rusty ladder built into the tunnel.

“That doesn’t look safe,” Trailblazer said snarkily. Surefooted responded by making a creaking noise and a long whistle before a squishing sound. “Couldn’t agree more,” Trailblazer said.

The two went down the hatch and noticed the change of ambiance. While the previous room had an eerie silence to it, this one had an echoing hum where the smell of rusting metal and collecting dust were welcomed.

Right before they reached the bottom, the hatch that led them in closed and made a loud clang that echoed through the tight interior. The artificial lights got brighter as they came closer to the bottom until they reached their destination.

The bottom of the tunnel had a room with a pond that had a swirling magical energy to it, with many candles mounted on skulls burning away. But what stood out the most was a big chair facing the pond with only a big hat with a feather being seen over the top.

Trailblazer looked at her sister and pointed at the hat with her eyes. Surefooted understood the message and quietly pulled the slingshot off their back. Trailblazer scanned the floor and picked up a big enough rock that would be able to knock the creature in the chair unconscious.

They positioned the rock on the slingshot and pulled back, Surefooted giving her sister one last look for confirmation before letting go. The rock went flying and hit the hat right where the creature’s skull should be.

The hat fell off the creature and it fell forward to reveal it was only a skeleton with a hat. The skeleton was thrown into the pond which began to bubble. The pond suddenly started flashing with a swirling green color as many messages flashed in the water, and an alarm started sounding.

Trailblazer and Surefooted tried to make sense of the confusing messages, and they came to one conclusion: something was coming for them. They quickly gathered their slingshot and some more rocks and started to find their way out.

“Look, another door!” Trailblazer shouted. The two quickly made their way through the door into a rocky tunnel, and what they saw on the other side scared them. Surefooted gave out a shriek of terror.

It was a group of about twenty mindless creatures. They were mostly just lying around, but when the alarm started to go off they moaned loudly and became agitated. They charged at the siblings, started to try and strike them, and even each other with the occasional snapping of their jaws.

Surefooted pointed at a group of rocks that would act as a ladder to higher ground and hopefully away from these creatures. Trailblazer quickly started running with her up the rocks and said, “How do we get rid of those things?”

Surefooted looked ahead and saw a few raised plates that she hoped were some traps. She made some pew, pew noises and pointed at the obvious ones. Trailblazer understood and jumped over the traps as the creatures behind them chased close behind.

The first of the creatures managed to avoid the trap, but the others weren’t so lucky. As one of the creatures stepped on the plate, it sunk into the ground and spears flew out of the walls and hit a few of them in vital spots, ending their lives.

The rest kept chasing the twins as they came to some more traps. This time they accidentally stepped on one and a pit opened up with crocodiles swimming around at the bottom. Trailblazer managed to stop them quickly enough and went around the huge pit, but the creatures behind them had no such luck. They kept running and most fell in to be eaten by the hungry beasts below.

The twins started to get tired and looked back to see if they were still being followed. Sure enough, there was still about a half dozen, and they showed no signs of slowing down, unlike the twins whose lungs were burning and legs were ready to give out.

The environment around them soon started to change yet again as the tunnel they were in gave way to an artificial complex filled with crates and narrow paths. “I’m not sure how much longer we can go on,” said Trailblazer. “Wait, what’s that?!”

Both ponies looked ahead to see a single pony with a burgundy coat, some sort of helmet on its head with a backpack-type thing on its back. The pony pulled a strange object that looked similar to a small canon from its backpack and prepared a stance before shouting at them.

“Insert badass one liner here later.”

\—D—/

The two-headed pony ran past him, its two heads talking amongst themselves worriedly. Motor Mind was able to hear one them call the other by name, Surefooted. He had little time to dwell on this as the mob rushed at him.

He changed the setting of his gun from stun to kill. These were clearly no longer ponies, as they attacked even each other. He thought it only fair to put them out of their misery. Charging the first, he thrust the butt of his shotgun to crack its skull, then, turning it around, he fired the weapon at the second one. Shrapnel flew and a rainbow-colored smoke belched from the gun. As they went down, the others moaned louder and started to jump at him. Motor Mind turned around and placed all his weight on his front hooves and bucked one of the creatures. Ordinarily that would not have done much, but that’s why he wore steel horseshoes. The stallion was met with the sickening sound of ribs cracking. The creature was pushed back and fell on top of another of its comrades.

That meant three were down, one was momentarily stalled under another, and three more were starting to flank him. Two of them managed to get around him, to his frustration, but seemed to settle for just circling. If anything it appeared that they were about to run away. Motor Mind prepared his shotgun once more, but paused when he heard a creaking sound from above. He looked up and saw it was the two-headed pony from before—they were pushing on one of the crates that was positioned above him. He put his gun away, lured the creatures closer to him and started to taunt them.

“Hey, you’re so ugly you make onions cry!” The ponies just continued moaning, completely ignoring the comment. “Can I borrow your brain for an hour? I’m building an idiot!” Again the ponies ignored the comment, but this time they drew closer.

Finally the creatures had come close enough and the two-headed pony above dropped the crate. "Hey, dummy, what has four hooves, a genius mind, and is about to do a sick barrel roll?" At the last possible moment, Motor Mind rolled out of the way and the ponies were crushed, killing them on impact. "This guy." He said as he was getting up, failing to notice the other pony that was trapped under the corpse of his friend. During the battle he must have gotten up and was now standing above him ready to strike.

As the creature brought down its front hooves to strike, the two-headed pony yelled from above, “Look out!” They landed right on the creature about to strike him and it let out a moan of pain.

Motor Mind took the chance and brought his steel-clad hooves down on the creature, ending its misery. The ponies started to talk among themselves again.

“So what are you doing here?” Motor Mind asked the ponies. One head appeared to be angry, while the other one seemed to be scared.

“Our names are Trailblazer and Surefooted,” the head on his left, Trailblazer, spoke. “We are trying to get out of here.” They were panting and clearly tired from running. The left head, Surefooted, gave her sister a look of confusion and pointed at Motor Mind with her eyes, signaling that this was their opponent, but he didn’t seem to know it himself.

Trailblazer understood and quickly added, “We got in this cave and are trying to get home.”

Motor Mind gave them a quick once over and said, “The name is Motor Mind, and I am trying to get to the middle of this area. I’ve heard that there is a way out of here there.” Motor Mind took another quick scan and looked down at the dead creatures.

“We should travel together, and I think you could use some rest. I suggest we find cover and do so,” suggested Motor Mind. Trailblazer and Surefooted, pleased that he bought the lie, accepted and started following him.

The group decided to go deeper in the complex in search of food and drink. They walked for hours in the complex in relative silence, the twins being too tired to talk and Motor Mind mostly mumbling to himself.

“We have been walking for hours!” Trailblazer shouted. “And quite possibly walking around in circles! We’ve passed that same stalagmite like fifteen times already.”

“Shhhhhhhhhhhh!” Surefooted said.

“She is right,” Motor Mind said. “We don’t want to fight more of those things, that’s for sure.”

That made all three to look around for any of the strange creatures. Surefooted noticed some markings on the floor and brought it to the attention of her companions, Trailblazer interpreting for Motor Mind.

“She said that some of those creatures have been here.” Another burst of faint noises and gestures. Trailblazer nodded and said, “She says there must have been at least fifty.”

“We have to keep moving,” replied Motor Mind. “We don’t want a horde of those things coming after us.”

Surefooted noticed a large, open freight crate and wondered if they could use it as shelter. “What’s wrong?” Trailblazer asked. She told her about the open crate and if it could be used a shelter.

“Good idea, kid, let’s go check it out,” Motor Mind said. They made their way to the open crate and saw three hay beds, smaller crates marked Provisions, and a makeshift fireplace in the middle.

“Does this strike anyone else as odd?” Trailblazer asked. “I mean what are the chances of this being a trap?” Motor Mind agreed and started inspecting the room for any sort of dangers, but none were found.

“It’s clean,” he announced. “Get some rest—you two look exhausted from having those things chase you. How did you get lost here anyway?”

Surefooted gave her sister a look that said to be careful with what she said, disguising it under a few coughs. “You’ll have to excuse her,” Trailblazer said quickly. “She is a mute. She can only speak by replicating noises, and she can’t form words.” Surefooted silently nodded with a sad expression on her face.

“Our parents left us at an orphanage when we were little, we aren’t sure if it was because of economic reasons, or maybe our deformity.” They started raiding the crates and pulled out anything edible, dividing it among them.

“That’s terrible!” Motor Mind said as he lit the fire with his steel shoes. He knew it was a good idea to make them with a blend of titanium. “I know what it’s like to be orphaned at a young age.”

Both twins looked surprised to find out that he had it just as bad as they did. “But I don’t let it get to me. I use that experience to grow stronger."

The fire was now burning strong and the twins had finished eating their share of food. "You two get some rest; I'll take the first watch."

The twins looked at each other with a knowing face and lay down on one of the makeshift beds. Soon, they were sound asleep and the fire had grown dim.

Not long after, Motor Mind, bored and getting tired from seeing the children sleep, started snoozing as well.

A few hours passed and Trailblazer quietly woke up her sister. Surefooted quietly moaned as her sister gently nudged her awake.

Surefooted started shooing her away with her hoof, when she realized where she was. They looked over to a still sleeping Motor Mind, who was still wearing his equipment.

They quietly made their way over to him unsure if he was asleep under the helmet. Trailblazer waved a hoof in front of the helmet to try and see if he was awake, but nothing happened.

Realizing he wasn't waking up anytime soon, the twins decided to make their strike. They set up their slingshot and prepared a large and heavy shot that was a sure kill if they aimed correctly.They pulled back on the sling, and, as they were lining up the shot, Motor Mind gave a particularly loud snore that made Surefooted flinch in surprise, causing her to release early.

That almost gave me a heart attack! Trailblazer thought to herself, trying to calm down her fast-beating heart. Her sister was no better, only she was focused on the rock, terribly misaimed, as it slammed into Motor Mind’s leg.

"Gaaa daammm, freegggnnn sshhhaa! What's going on!" Motor Mind shouted in pain, clutching his rear leg. He looked up to see the twins with a slingshot in their hooves, quickly preparing another shot.

They released another shot, but he was able to duck out of the way, sending it whizzing over his head. Surefooted looked at Trailblazer who was yanking their body and pointed to the exit.

"Couldn't agree more. Run!" Trailblazer said, reiterating what her sister said. They ran out of the freight, leaving behind Motor Mind struggling to get up and run on three legs.

"Damn, I think they tore a few ligaments," he grumbled, collapsing to the floor again. He started laughing. "I have to say I should have seen this coming.” He stopped and his voice took on a low growl as he said, “Playtime is over, then.”

\—D—/

Trailblazer and Surefooted started running towards the center of the arena which was conveniently labeled by road signs. Probably Discord's doing. They arrived at a cavern with many stalagmites and stalactites that gave it a maze-like feel.

"See if you can find any traps we can use to our advantage," Trailblazer suggested. "I'll try and navigate us to the center.” It didn’t take long for Surefooted to find several traps. As Trailblazer took them to the center, one step at a time, she made a mental note of where each was located. When they made it to the center, Surefooted explaining in her own way what she had seen, Trailblazer flashed a large smile. "Well that could come in handy.”

\—D—/

Motor Mind had managed to balance on three legs long enough to make a makeshift crutch with wood from the crates and tying some hay together. All the while, laughs, chuckles, giggles continually escaped his throat. He slowly made his way out of the freight and followed the road signs to the center of the arena and started complaining to himself.

“You spend your whole life creating armor that can stop even the strongest magic attacks, yet it was unable to stop a rock!” He said, his voice growing higher in pitch near the end, before dropping again. “This is clearly why the Equestrian patent office laughed at you, because you're a failure. How can they expect to take your creations seriously, when you can't make a simple set of armor!”

On his way there, one of the creatures from earlier wandered toward him. Motor Mind, without even looking at it, passed by it and shot it in the face with his shotgun. It hit the floor with a thud, him still laughing his head off like the mad pony he was. Unaware to the giggling inventor, another one of the creatures had seen what had happened and retreated back into the darkness from whence it came.

\—D—/

Trailblazer and Surefooted were now standing on top of a natural spire with a large amount of ammo for their slingshot and a view in all possible directions their opponent could come in. It was the best angle to take him down. "We’ve got this in the bag," Trailblazer said to her sister. Surefooted agreed by making a continuous blowing sound with her breath.

"Well, look who it is?" Trailblazer said pointing out at their opponent trying to navigate the maze. "Lets give him a little gift, shall we?" The twins prepared a shot and quickly locked on to him. The shot went flying and hit Motor Mind. They grimaced as they saw his armor absorb most of the impact, and he began to act more carefully.

"Another," Trailblazer said, loading up the slingshot again. This time the shot missed him completely, but hit a raised plate activating the trap it was hiding.

The walls around Motor Mind started shooting poison darts. Despite his injury throbbing, he avoided them, barely. Seeing the trap did give him an idea though. He swapped his shotgun for his sidearm and loaded them with his own little surprise.

"Keep firing!" Trailblazer told her sister. One by one shots flew through the air, landing all around him. It was clear they were growing desperate, trading slower, accurate shots for rapid fire misses. He got a general idea of where they were; he pointed the sidearm in that direction and fired.

The sidearm launched a single dart that flew through the air and struck the twin-headed pony on the left shoulder. Trailblazer grabbed the dart and removed it from her shoulder to inspect it. It wasn't poisonous, and it clearly wasn't meant to penetrate more than skin. Before they had time to question anymore, they saw a sight they had hoped never to see. Coming from all directions were hordes of the creatures from earlier.

They heard loud bangs of what was Motor Mind probably trying to fend them off but only eight were heard before the noise stopped completely. She struggled to look over her shoulder where she saw Motor Mind getting cornered by a few of the creatures.

Surefooted suddenly felt numb and started to lose her balance. "Woah, you OK there?" her sister asked, but got no reply. She tried to move, tried to get away from the incoming creatures, but found herself unable to. Sudden realization hit her. “Tranquilizer dart—!" Trailblazer looked towards her sister, now dangerously close to the edge. "So this is it?" she said as they teetered over. "Eaten by a pack of ravenous ponies?"

The two sisters were now looking each other in the eye as the creatures started to surround them. Surefooted crying out in terror, her wordless, soundless cries reduced to a croak thanks to the chemicals in their system.

"Good bye, sis," Trailblazer said. Her sister only replied with equally teary eyes as a creature bit into her neck. Then, there was a loud flash, and everything turned different colors.

\—D—/

Motor Mind hoped that the dart had hit its intended target. Judging from the fact that they were no longer returning fire, he felt his luck had held true. As he continued to navigate to the center, he came across another of the creatures from earlier, flashing its teeth and snarling. "You again!" he shouted. “How many times to I have to kill you things before you realize I'm not on the menu!" He holstered his sidearm and prepared his shotgun once more. He fired at the creature's head, killing it instantly, its head blowing off its body in a mutilated mess.

As it hit the floor, two more of the creatures appeared behind him. Motor Mind quickly shot them both dead with another two shots. Much to his dismay, however, four more appeared out of nowhere. It was as if for every one he killed two more took its place. They started to gather together, making it possible to kill more than one per shot, but he stopped when he realized he only had one shot left before he had to reload. And it didn't look like he was going to get that chance anytime soon.

Motor Mind heard a scream then remembered his opponents. "I forgot I tranqed them." Despite himself, he felt guilty. "Even they don't deserve to die like this." His mind made up, he tried to get to the girls but was going nowhere on his bum leg, not to mention the creatures that were starting to corner him. His backpack hit the wall telling him he was at the end of his rope and had nowhere to run. He suddenly realized what had just happened and carefully smacked his hoof on his face for being so stupid.

He had forgotten what it was that made him different, the special talent symbolized by his rainbow engine cutie mark. He had forgotten he had been lugging around this thing and hadn't used it yet. He forgot he could fly!

"Rainbow-powered engine!" he shouted as his tail turned a crank on his back, spreading his armor and turning it into two large wings. The engine suddenly came to life, flapping the wings for him as he started to lift off the ground. The creatures stared at him, motionless, as they had no way of reaching him, and started to disperse. He laughed that he had forgotten literally the best part of his arsenal before he remembered the twins still had to be taken care of. "Time to wrap this up,” he said as he took to the air, a smoggy, dull rainbow trailing him, leaving the creatures in a coughing fit.

Motor Mind took two of his grenades off his belt, one stun, one frag, and tossed them in different directions. The frag grenade landed near the creatures that were previously cornering him. They all stared at it with dull expression as it ticked away before exploding, taking most of the creatures surrounding the explosive with it. The stun grenade flew into the group surrounding the twins and let out a gas that made them all start coughing and rubbing their eyes. He then dove into the cloud, hoping it wasn't too late.

\—D—/

As the colors cleared up, Surefooted's ears were still ringing as the room spun around. She was able to make out the creatures who had stopped attacking and were now on the floor holding their heads. Her sister was also alive, though bleeding some from a bite wound on her neck. Surefooted looked up to see Motor Mind flying with the contraption on his back. As her ears and the vertigo cleared up, he picked them up in his forehooves and took them away from the horde of creatures who were beginning to approach again as they recovered.

They landed on an empty cliff with none of the creatures in sight, and Motor Mind spoke up. "I'm sorry I overreacted. I understand why you did what you did and forgive you."

Surefooted looked down at her sister who was coughing up blood. "With that said, it makes this next part all the harder." He brought up his shotgun once more and pointed it at Trailblazer. Surefooted responded by covering her sister protectively and giving a worried look.

"She is in bad shape and isn't going to make it; we can at least give her the pleasure of a swift death instead of just bleeding out."

Surefooted debated the logic and understood. She didn't want her sister to suffer anymore. With the swiftest of nods, she gave her consent, then turned away, her ears folded down and tears streaming from her close eyed. Motor Mind carefully shot at only Trailblazer's head, knocking it off of her body and into the ground.

"I really don't like hurting children and hate the thought that this was the best solution, but sometimes dying is better than living in a miserable world."

As he spoke, a shimmering light pierced their vision. Not ten feet away a vertical line appeared in thin air. It cut through the air and widened, obscuring their vision as it turned into a dark tunnel. Faintly, in the center of the opening, a bright light called to them.

Surefooted hugged her sister's head as Motor Mind carried her into the bright light in the middle of the arena.

Creeping in the Coruscating Caverns (Win)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Motor Mind's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Creeping in the Coruscating Caverns (Win)

The entrance door vanished behind them, leaving them in a dark, featureless room. Immediately after it disappeared, a doorway appeared that led to an area with a dirt floor and a single spot of light. Past that, a black wall went on beyond where they could see. With a breath and a nod to each other for confidence, they stepped through to meet their opponent.

What they found upon stepping in, however, was that they were alone. The air was cool with a breeze, coming from a hole in the ceiling that let in a single ray of light, which provided no warmth. The floor was cool dirt, and around them the walls were stone. The darkness ahead of them belonged to a tunnel, and only a crack in the walls provided light beyond.

Behind them, the doorway sank into the floor, leaving them alone…and trapped.

They looked around, but couldn’t see anything else. Trailblazer looked at the tunnel in front of her.

“Are you ready?” she asked her sister. Surefooted nodded, taking a deep breath and adjusting the slingshot by her side. Trailblazer took one of her own, and then began walking down the darker one. Surefooted remained silent as they proceeded. The walls were made of a red-grey rock, and were hewn smoothly. Surefooted wondered at its smoothness; there was no wind or traces of a river that could’ve rubbed it smooth.

Suddenly, she heard something. She turned around and saw that there was a wall behind them. She gasped.

Trailblazer whipped their body around, ready to face her adversary. Once she saw the wall, however, she bolted up. “What in Equestria?”

They both turned to their front, but where there was endless tunnel there was now an open area. They trotted to its edge and peered out at both sides. Looking to the right revealed that the area wasn’t empty. A portion of a building stuck out the ground, while a pile of broken green glass and a broken candle were scattered around it. For the building, only one window stuck out of view, enough to show enough space to use as a room, although only broken and faded objects littered where they could see. Another tunnel to their left was present.

“Should we look inside to see if we can use anything?” Trailblazer asked. “Or should we move on to try and find our opponent?”

Surefooted was about to answer when her ears flicked and her eyes widened. Then she lowered her head and growled at the window. Trailblazer took the hint and nudged her to their right, next to the building and out of sight of the window. Trailblazer kept Surefooted back and peeked around the corner.

What emerged was a pallid, maneless pony, whose skin sagged around it, whose ribs threatened to rip the skin around it, whose legs quivered under it, whose pupil-less eyes shifted. It was a stallion, one without a cutie mark. It looked around frantically, looking for them.

“That’s not our opponent,” Trailblazer said. Surefooted nodded in agreement. “Still, I think we should avoid it.” She disappeared from its view and leaned into her sister. “Alright, let’s shoot a stone at the opposite wall, wait for it to either go over there or hide, and then make our move for the tunnel. Okay?”

Surefooted nodded.

“Alright.” Trailblazer nuzzled her for comfort, and then turned—

—right into the pupil-less face of the stallion.

“Yah!” They both stumbled back and faced the stallion, who shrieked in reply and stumbled back. He fell on his back and cowered, crying. Trailblazer and Surefooted watched him for a while, waiting to see what he would do. He didn’t stop cowering.

“I don’t think we need to worry about him,” Trailblazer whispered. “Let’s just go around him and be on our way.”

Surefooted nodded and looked up, and her brow furrowed. Trailblazer looked as well and saw the source of the confusion: the tunnels around them had vanished.

“What in Equestria?” Trailblazer looked around, finding a tunnel behind the house—where one wasn’t before. “Let’s go before it changes up again.”

They both cantered for the passage. Surefooted looked back one last time at the stallion, who scrambled to his hooves and galloped to the far end of the opening. He sniffed around the edges until they were out of his sight.

Surefooted looked back and followed the small beams of light coming from the walls. A beam occasionally emerged from the floor, iridescent unlike the pale beams from the cracks and gaps. There were no noises for some time.

Then, ahead of them, just as they were coming to another opening, they caught sight of a figure. It was a fleeting figure, and it sped past the opening and disappeared to the right. What was odd was that a cloudy rainbow trail was left in its wake. The colors shifted and expanded into a thin, transparent cloud of rainbow before disappearing, leaving only a lit grey wall ahead of them.

“Do you think that’s our opponent?” Trailblazer asked. Surefooted shrugged and pulled towards the wall to their right. Trailblazer followed, and they pressed up against the wall. They inched forward bit by bit when, suddenly, a shrill sound could be heard. And then a cacophony. And then a primal roar.

“Down with you all!” And suddenly, an explosion could be heard, and a cloud of rainbow smoke came into view. Soon, two large ponies flew into their view, both half covered in rainbow and half pallid grey. One was a large, brutish stallion; the other was a large, brutish mare.

And both pairs of eyes locked on to the sisters.

“Get ready to run,” Trailblazer whispered. Surefooted nodded, whimpering. Then, suddenly, the stallion sprang after the two; the mare followed right behind. “Now!”

They turned and dashed, only to hit a jagged rock wall. They recovered just in time to rolled out of the way of the stallion, who slammed so hard into the wall that it cracked upon impact. The mare perhaps would’ve left a similar mark had she crashed into it as well, but she barreled right into the stallion. Once both pallid ponies recovered, they rose on their hindlegs and began batting and biting at each other.

“Now’s our chance!” Trailblazer and Surefooted turned tail and galloped away from the two pallid ponies, who didn’t take any sort of notice. They broke into the opening and looked to their right. What they saw was a pony with a burgundy coat, a dull-gold tail and a helmet that resembled ponies working in radioactive matters. It was black with bright green eyes that glowed as it stared at other pallid ponies around him. Surrounding where he stood was a burst of rainbow color that oozed down from the walls and pooled around him.

They saw him reach for something and dove behind a rock to hide.Trailblazer looked around the right and Surefooted from their left. He had pulled out a shotgun and aimed it at one of the moaning stallions around him. The sisters had seen a gun a few times, and Trailblazer remembered Surefooted’s reaction to it; she immediately pulled her sister back and covered their ears. A boom echoed through the open area and the cave network, and their cover did little to shield them from the reverberating sound.

When Trailblazer looked back up, she saw the pallid pony covered in coruscating gem fragments embedded in its hide. It lay motionless. The rest of the pallid ponies saw this and shrieked; a few even tried to scramble away, but had difficulty walking. She wouldn’t let Surefooted watch what was going on and still kept her ears covered with her hoof and neck. Then she heard another noise: speech.

“It had to be done,” a deep voice said. “It had to be done. There can be no mercy in a competition like this. Everything that gets in my way has to die.” The voice suddenly switched from deep to nasally. “I know they weren’t my opponent, but a few of them did come after me, and I can’t spare the time to aim at the few that are out to get me and spare the rest.” Deep voice again. “Besides, look at them. Cold, lonely and lost. They’re probably too dumb and withdrawn to be of any sort of use to the world, and it’d probably be better if I put them out of their misery.” Nasal voice. “B-but they have no lives here.” A moment of silence. “Because look at them!” He gestured to the cowering and scattering ponies. “They have no cutie marks. They don’t have coat colors. They don’t even have pupils or irises! They can’t talk or beg for their lives! How can they be alive if they can’t express themselves in any way?” Another silent moment. “Crying doesn’t count!” He swirled around again—

—and then stopped his eyes looking straight at Trailblazer.

He began floating in the air, with a stream of rainbow steam behind him. “Jackpot.”

Suddenly, he sped towards them, not with the wings of a pegasus, but with two blades of metal and a backpack that produced rainbow steam.

Finally, she uncupped Surefooted’s ears. “Get ready, because here he comes!”

Surefooted understood immediately and raised herself to stand. In a split second, she grabbed a few stones on the ground and unlatched their slingshot. This was all well and good, too, because the pony had just passed over them and tossed something down at them. They didn’t know what it was, but seeing what he had done to the pallid ponies, they didn’t want to find out.

“Come on!” Trailblazer yelled. She leaped forward, and Surefooted gained control of their left legs just fast enough to begin galloping away. The masked stallion above them pointed his gun at them and fired, sending bits of gems raining down. The shot, however, was too far away to do any damage, so shards of sapphires and jasper bounced off their flanks as they galloped away. From behind them, another explosion happened, and they looked back to see a burst of rainbow spread out to the outer walls of the opening.

“Neither of you can escape!” the stallion cried as he flew after them. On the ground, Trailblazer and Surefooted were very fast, but the stallion was able to catch up to them easily. Now that he was closer, he could fire at them with more result. Larger bits of gemstones bounced off their back, a few off their heads, the occasional one almost getting into their eyes. And yet they galloped on.

The shots came closer, and soon the gems were beginning to cut their hides. At this point, something had to be done. Surefooted brought the slingshot to her mouth and tossed a stone into it. At that moment, they were galloping with Trailblazer leading and Surefooted with a slingshot and stone in her mouth. Trailblazer saw her prepared, and panted, “You ready?” Surefooted nodded. “He’s right above us, and getting closer.”

They could hear the cocking of the shotgun right behind them. Surefooted nodded; it was now or never. Trailblazer nodded, looked back to see the stallion take aim, and then stopped running. Her side of their body turned to face the stallion, who was getting ready to slam his hoof on a button on top. She ducked her head to reveal Surefooted, who fired the stone at him. The stone struck the bottom of the shotgun’s barrel, throwing its aim straight up and smashing the button into the masked pony’s face. Shards of diamonds clanked against the ceiling before coming down; the stallion regained control just fast enough to bank left out of their way. Trailblazer and Surefooted banked right, and the ponies found themselves along separate paths.

The path Trailblazer and Surefooted were going down was lighter than the others, with not only pockets and cracks of light pouring in, but also glowing mushrooms scattered along the walls. For the first time since coming here, they saw foliage lining the walls, moss and vines, a few roots that seemed to twitch upon their arrival. A trail of water was falling from a hole in the ceiling, and it flowed ahead of them into the dark path.

They heard the whirring of the stallion’s flight mechanism, and it was fast approaching. They looked around. “We can’t run from him, and our chances of hiding aren’t much good. Any ideas?”

Surefooted looked around, then nodded enthusiastically. She pointed up to a vine hanging close to a ledge to their right. Trailblazer thought about it, but then Surefooted wrapped her left hoof around her neck and imitated being choked. Then Trailblazer understood.

“You’re a genius!” she cried before the whirring became extra loud. “We better hurry!” They cantered forward and hopped onto the ledge. Surefooted grabbed the vine and held it close to her. They lowered their body on the floor of the ledge—even though there was no way it would protect them from the stallion’s view—and waited.

It wasn’t a moment too soon, either, because the stallion was on his way. He was scanning the tunnel ahead for any signs of life. He came up to them quicker than they had expected, and they saw his gaze lock onto theirs, and another shorter gun was pointed at them, when they leapt at him. The vine they had in Surefooted’s mouth was low enough to reach the stallion’s neck, and he jerked to a stop. They wrapped around him once and then landed on his back. Surefooted kept her grip on the vine, while Trailblazer grabbed his muzzle and pulled it back.

The stallion reached his hooves for the vine, trying to bat away Trailblazer. His flight device had kept going, thrashing the trio about and clouding the air with rainbow. The vine held, however, and the stallion kept on beating at them.

For a moment, his fighting died down, and Trailblazer thought they had knocked him out. But then she saw something that made her panic. In a last-ditch effort, he had grabbed his shotgun and had been slowly guiding it towards Surefooted. She was so focused on the vine in her mouth that she hadn’t seen the barrel staring her in the face. She knew that there wouldn’t be enough time for her to tell her to move, so she acted.

Dislodging herself from him, she bit Surefooted on the ear as hard as she could. Surefooted yelped and the vine flew out of her mouth. The stallion sped off as the shotgun was fired, sending a burst of rainbow cloud past them. The two fell to the ground while the stallion flew straight up, hitting the ceiling. It took a while for either of them to recover, but once Trailblazer did, she tried to speed off down whichever path the tunnel went, but found she was struggling. She looked over to her left to see Surefooted wobbling, completely disoriented.

“Surefooted! Come on!” she yelled, pulling her. Surefooted stumbled, and fell. Trailblazer looked back to see the pony stop his device for a moment while hanging on to the vine that had almost killed him.

“Come on, Motor Mind,” he said in his nasally voice. “Don’t let that happen again. Watch out for environmental threats from now on.” He then began messing with his backpack, and the flight mechanism began whirring again.

“We need to go!” Trailblazer yelled, wrapping Surefooted with her neck and sprinting. Surefooted was just conscious enough to push her legs forward, but her coordination was off. So they were hobbling away from the now-flying pony. Fortunately, there were many rocks to hide behind on their way down the path, or else the shotgun-gem blasts would’ve skewered them.

That’s when Trailblazer remembered the slingshot they had. She plucked it off of Surefooted’s side and pulled a rock from the ground. She clumsily placed it in her mouth and pulled back; it just barely fit. Motor Mind came back at them with his shotgun poised and ready to fire. Trailblazer let go.

It hit the wing, and the stallion lost control and fell to the ground. He skidded a bit and crashed into the wall in front of him. By now, Surefooted had gained enough consciousness to canter and keep focus. Trailblazer still held her around the neck.

A light at the end of the tunnel gave them hope. “Don’t worry, Sure,” Trailblazer said. “We’re almost out of here!” They barreled their way through the tunnel, with a cursing Motor Mind behind, and were almost there before something odd happened: the ceiling began to close down on them. “Hurry!”

Seeing the sight of the tunnel closing in on them finally got Surefooted out of her stupor completely. and she galloped with Trailblazer as the lights in the cracks disappeared. They were soon running with only glowing fungal light to guide them. It was just reaching the tops of their manes when they broke through the clearing.

They turned back to see Motor Mind’s fate. Soon the chasm was growing dim, and not even the mushrooms could light it up. At first it looked like all was lost for Motor Mind. Then, in the distance, a terrific rainbow explosion burst, and he zoomed right past them, so low that they had to duck to avoid decapitation from the blade-wings. He didn’t get far, though, when he crashed into something tall. He spun out of control and landed somewhere in the distance. The chasm closed, leaving them there.

Now that they were temporarily safe, Trailblazer hugged her sister. “Are you alright?” Surefooted, almost teary-eyed, hugged back and nodded. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I thought we were goners for sure.” Surefooted sniffled, but a quick nuzzle from Trailblazer set her right. “Now where are we?”

They looked around. All around them, glistening stalagmites and stalactites stood and hung crowded. Pools and streams of water lined the floors, and a single spotlight in the center cast a coruscating light off of them. The place glistened with white-and-silver light. The area was surprisingly warm, even humid, and darkness from many different tunnels surrounded them. What was more, troops of pallid ponies milled about, some drinking water, others gnawing on stalagmites, and still others trying to find a barred-off area to weep. They saw no signs of Motor Mind, though.

“Keep your ears and eyes open, okay?” Trailblazer said. Surefooted nodded, and they both crouched down. Slowly, they made their way around the stalagmites and kept their eyes open.

As they made their way around, the pallid ponies moved out of their way or skittered off entirely, or shrieked and neighed at them until they went a different direction. In another direction, they heard neighing and some sort of deep voice telling them to back off. At one point, they came across a shade that was lying on the ground, a dart in its neck. They had seen this before and had been a victim of them once. They were now doubly on their guard.

Suddenly, they came across a few splotches of rainbow and shards of glass. This must’ve come from the vials of rainbow, they thought to themselves. Surefooted followed the trail and led Trailblazer along, who kept watch all the while. She kept her ears perked up, doing her best to find a viscous rainbow drip among the clear drips of water.

That distinguishing sound came soon, in the form of a hollow breathing. It was muffled like somepony’s mouth was muzzled with something. That told Surefooted that Motor Mind was close by; his mask had a mouthpiece on it for some reason, perhaps to protect from chemicals. It certainly wasn’t quiet; but she couldn’t tell where it was.

Then the hoofsteps came, a few of them frantic scraping, and they came on the other side of the stalagmites to their right. Surefooted crouched, and Trailblazer followed. They lay there, and from the spaces between the stalagmites they could see a masked pony looking around, shaking ,with a smaller gun by his side. Surprisingly, a pallid stallion hobbled up behind him, scowling and twitching. Motor Mind didn’t notice until the stallion gave a roar and raised a foreleg to strike; he turned and shot a dart into the stallion’s neck. The stallion went berserk and destroyed a few stalagmites around him until he calmed down and lay down. Soon, he was asleep.

Motor Mind looked around more, then went on his way. Trailblazer looked at the debris of the stallion’s rampage and found a few sharp rock formations. She picked one up and gave it to Surefooted. She understood. She grabbed it and pulled out their slingshot. She placed it in her mouth, placed the rock in it with the tip facing Motor Mind, and pulled back.

Motor Mind continued looking around until Surefooted fired. It struck right in the lens of his helmet, eliciting a shriek from him. The pallid ponies around him all shrieked as well, and they all hid from Motor Mind who was looking around madly. Surefooted scrambled for another rock fragment, but Motor Mind’s brown eye found them, and he leapt over the broken stalagmites and was upon them. He aimed his tranquilizer at Surefooted, but was not expecting a buck from Trailblazer. He grunted and stumbled back, the heavy armor around him protecting him mostly from the blow. They scrambled up to their hooves, and Motor Mind aimed his tranquilizer at Trailblazer. Surefooted, for her part, fired another rock, smacking the tranquilizer out of his grasp.

But he wasn’t done yet. He threw a hoof at the two and smacked Surefooted with the steel horseshoe at the end. Surefooted screamed and stumbled back. He threw another hoof, but Trailblazer threw herself in the way. She was more accustomed to taking hard blows and absorbed it, although she did stumble. He didn’t possess monumental strength, but it was enough to affect the two. They stumbled backwards, and he began fiddling with his shotgun. Trailblazer saw this, and she threw herself over the stalagmite wall and began bounding through the maze. Surefooted followed suit, letting Trailblazer lead the way. In truth, she had no idea where she was going, but they had to get away.

“It’s no use running!” Motor Mind cried in his deep voice. “Sooner or later, you’re going to run out of energy, and then I’ll be there!” There was whirring, and they knew they were up for a chase.

Surefooted, while being led, grabbed as many pointy rocks as possible and stored them in the pouch of their slingshot. A few pallid ponies skirted back from them as she grabbed, and a few tried reaching for them from behind the stalagmites. Still, they made their way around the maze and dove into the darkness.

There was no way to know where they were going except seeing the light behind them. They ran into a few stalagmites and stalactites along the way, and once or twice tripped over a pallid pony, but they still kept going. Occasionally Surefooted would look behind to see the silhouette of Motor Mind coming straight after them, following them even though they were in the dark. She thought he must’ve been able to see in the dark, even though they couldn’t.

Suddenly, they both fell and slid downwards. They were sliding along water, which hurt a lot less than if they were skidding on rock, but it was almost impossible to control where they were going. Each of their heads slammed against a wall, and they curled up and rested their heads on one another to protect themselves.

Down, down, down they went, until they finally landed in a pool of water. It was deep, and the water was black. One single light shone through, illuminating the upper portion of the cave, but that was it. They wondered for a moment if there was no way out, if Motor Mind would come for them, if he, too, would get lost, or if they would starve to death down here.

Then they heard a whirring and constant scraping, and they knew he was coming. “You still have your rocks?” Surefooted nodded. “There’s nowhere to hide here. It looks like it’s all or nothing.”

Surefooted nodded and cocked one of the rocks into the slingshot, letting Trailblazer hold the others in her mouth. They waited at the entrance for the stallion.

The whirring stopped becoming louder, and a clinking was heard. They waited until they saw an egg-shaped thing. Instantly Trailblazer recognized it, and she took Surefooted underwater just as it exploded. A cloud was above the pool, though it was too dark to tell if it was rainbow or not. They came back up and found their entire vision clouded.

The whirring suddenly reverberated in the chamber.

“Nrr!”

Surefooted let go of the slingshot, and the stone flew into the entrance. There was a howl, and multiple items fell into the water. Trailblazer felt around to get them before they sank and found an egg-shaped thing. She looked at it and found a wind-up key. She had seen this type of gear on foals’ toys and wound it up and threw it into the air. It ticked away.

“It’s over!” Motor Mind’s deep voice said. “You’ve lost. There’s nowhere for you to run. You can’t see from below or above. But I can see you just fine.” A shot was fired. Trailblazer moved her head in front of Surefooted and was hit with a dart. Now she began to panic, and their heartbeat quickened. Surefooted whimpered, not being able to see anything. The ticking continued.

“Sooner or later, you will fall.” The whirring came from behind them, and Trailblazer moved her head again as a dart lodged itself into her muzzle. She dropped the stones from her mouth, and Surefooted caught all but one. The ticking continued.

“It doesn’t matter if you protect her, you know.” Another dart, this one hitting Trailblazer in the neck. She was beginning to feel the numbing effect. Surefooted whimpered, putting the stone in her mouth and not knowing what was going on. The ticking continued.

“Fine, then. You want to take all the shots?” The gun cocked. “This one will go right between the eyes.” Still Trailblazer held firm. “Good bye—“

An explosion came, and it sprayed gems this time. Trailblazer and Surefooted were both pierced, and they gave a cry—dropping the stone in the process. A bloodcurdling cry, however, told Trailblazer her plan had worked, but she wasn’t expecting something large to fall from the sky. Soon the figure swam up. She heard the muffled breathing and knew it was Motor Mind.

This was it: it was now or never. She hadn’t planned on this, but it had to be done. “Surefooted, try and get to the entrance and pull us up!” Before her sister could protest, Trailblazer held her breath and tackled Motor Mind, dragging him under.

Surefooted now began to panic; their lungs were working overtime to supply oxygen for them. She looked around and began swimming for the entrance in the dark. She couldn’t see it, but she could hear where the water was falling. She also had to take Trailblazer and Motor Mind with her, and this put more strain on her breathing. Her progress was slow.

Meanwhile, underneath the surface, Trailblazer held Motor Mind down. He thrashed and tried to bat her away, but by now she was so numb she couldn’t feel his hits. His armor, besides, was heavy, and weighing him down. In his desperate state, he had wasted a good deal of effort on trying to bat her away. Now tried to take his armor off. His hooves were clumsy, even though he could see in the dark. He thrashed, but Trailblazer held firm; by now, she couldn’t let go even if she tried.

Surefooted reached up and placed her left hoof on the ledge where the water was coming from. It was a stretch, but she got it. By now, she began feeling the numbing effect of the tranquilizer darts her sister took. She tried pulling up, but found that it was too heavy. She continued to pull, but to no effect. She scrambled, unsuccessfully. She began whining, calling for Trailblazer to come up.

Trailblazer heard her. Just a little more, she thought as she continued holding him. By now the fight to abandon the armor was done, and Motor Mind just tried pulling her off of him. She was almost unconscious and hoped this would be enough. Her vision clouded, and she began feeling heavy. She didn’t feel the few tugs around her neck that grew weaker and weaker. She did hear bubbles from Motor Mind. And then she felt nothing.

Surefooted saw bubbles and then felt the weight lift significantly. She was able to pull her sister out of the water, swinging their body until her sister’s head was on the entrance. She pulled harder and harder, scrambling up the rock face until Trailblazer’s hoof was on the ledge. Her sister used the last of her strength to pull her side up. Surefooted, now beginning to grow numb, threw their front over it, and kicked her hindleg until their side had shimmied over.

She used the last of her strength to roll them out of the way of the rushing water. She lifted her head to look at the lake—which she could now see. She waited for Motor Mind to reappear for a minute before collapsing.

“He’s not coming back up,” Trailblazer grumbled through a numbed muzzle. Surefooted nuzzled her, trying to comfort her. The numbness was beginning to hit her. “Relax,” Trailblazer moaned. “We need to sleep.” Surefooted grunted in confusion. “Don’t worry. It’s over. He’s not coming back.”

The realization hit Surefooted, and for a moment she was still.

“C’mere.” Surefooted dug her muzzle under Trailblazer’s and let her head rest under hers. “We did good.” Surefooted didn’t smile—she was too tired for that—but closed her eyes. By now the tranquilizing effect had completely taken Trailblazer, and soon it took Surefooted. For a while, their limp bodies lay there on a ledge, while water rushed past them into a pool that held their first opponent in its icy depths.

\—D—/

They awoke some time later and found themselves in a new part of the cave. This part had multiple dilapidated structures around them and a myriad of pallid ponies of all ages. Some surrounded them in a circle, but most were hiding in their homes. Two were chained up and thrashing about.

Before they could process what was going on, something emerged from the floor. Once it was done rising, they saw that it was a doorway similar to the one they had arrived here in.

“I guess this is where we go,” Trailblazer said. Surefooted nodded and took a deep breath. They held their head up high as they walked through the door, leaving the caves behind.

Lurking in the Shadows (Loss)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Alcauto's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Lurking in the Shadows (Loss)

Dusty hadn’t expected this when he had taken the door that had appeared in the featureless room he was forced to wait in. Usually one didn’t walk from a room, straight into a sewer. One also doesn’t usually find said sewer housing several dozen blank-flank ponies wandering about aimlessly.

Unless they actually did. In which case Dusty prayed to the Queen of Queens that he would never meet them. These ponies were dull-colored, blank-flanked, and filled his empathic senses with feelings ranging from rage and despair, to apathy and fear.

But there was no love. None at all. Every pony Dusty had ever met, which were admittedly very few, had at least some form of love in them. These...things...did not. They were little more than empty husks.

Beyond the loveless pony husks, the first thing to hit him was the smell. His nose wrinkled in distaste, desperately wishing to be plugged. This was a sewer alright. He was standing on a ledge over the rushing water. A quick look was all it took to confirm that the swiftly moving water would be too dangerous to swim in. Not that he was inclined to get in, anyway, as pieces of trash and debris floated past.

Looking left and right, he could see grates set into the walls. Some of the grates had light filtering through, while others only occasionally flashed. One grate down to his left had light so intense it it hurt his eyes to look at even from a distance. Being close to it would possibly cause blindness.

The most surprising thing he saw was not the ponies, the light, or anything else. It was the giant floating boulder of trash. It was perched in the air to his right, held aloft by...something he couldn’t see. Several more boulders could be seen in the distance.

Dusty flinched when he heard a loud cry behind him, and, whirling around, he found one such husk far too close for comfort. It was sitting covering its eyes and wailing, tears pouring down its cheeks. How it had gotten so close to him without his noticing, he wasn’t sure. Now was not the time to be distracted by the scenery. Dusty gagged on the disgustingly large amount of despair pouring off the husk in waves, backing away quickly.

His ears, pinned back from the uncomfortable settings, snapped to attention at the sound of nearby wing beats. Fleeing into the shadows of a nearby tunnel, Dusty did his best to not choke on the smells that filled his nostrils. It was bad enough for these husks to be overwhelming him with their despair, and the smell wasn’t helping. It was like some unholy mix of cow manure and the rotting dead.

Which only made it even worse to walk in. The water was murky, impossible to see through, and it splashed out of its canal just enough to give the floor a thin coat. There was even some dripping off the boulders floating high up in the air. Dusty would have found them rather strange, if he wasn’t so busy doing his best to hold down his lunch at some of the things he saw in the canal off to the side. He could feel his chitin becoming moist simply from the ambient mist in the air. A very thorough scrubbing was in order after this ordeal was over.

Closing his eyes, Dusty tried to filter out the horrible sights and smells of the sewer. The tunnel he was hiding in was, thankfully, somewhat clean. Not in smell, but at least in looks. Hopefully it was unused and he wouldn’t regret hiding in here. Finally catching his breath, Dusty peeked out around the corner and found an odd sight among the floating boulders and husks: a bat pony.

The bat pony was difficult to see in the light of the tunnel. Despite the light shining in through some of the grates, it was filtered and dirtied until everything was cast in a half-light at best. What the source of that outside light was, Dusty had no idea. He chalked it up to magic.

We are here for a fighting tournament, Dusty mused. So that must be my opponent.

The bat-winged pony was looking over the crowd of husks, most likely looking for somepony that stood out from among them. Namely, Dusty. The little changeling wasn’t quite ready to reveal himself, however; it was too soon. He needed more information on the battlefield and on how his opponent worked. Dusty might even be able to glean information about the chaos that was this sewer from his observations.

But how to observe without being observed myself... Dusty glanced about, before smirking to himself. Of course. I have dozens of disguises ready for me here!

Dusty was about to make himself look exactly like one of the wandering husks, but it was at that moment that the bat pony decided to come closer to his hiding place. Panicking slightly, Dusty had to fight the urge to flee down the tunnel and instead clinged closer to the dark shadows within the tunnel. His chitin coloration would help him here.

Unfortunately, his lack of knowledge about bat ponies wound up being his downfall. All he noticed was a smirk appearing on his opponent’s face, tasted some smug satisfaction coming from him, and then felt a hoof connect with his jaw rather painfully.

“Found ya!” the bat pony crowed. “Now you’re going down!”

Swearing colorfully, Dusty had no choice but to beat a hasty retreat; a one-on-one fight like this was beyond his ability. Tearing further down the tunnel, Dusty heard the bat pony call something about not getting away—but naturally, that was when the world went upside down. He stepped one hoof outside the other end of the tunnel and instantly was flying in a different direction.

And naturally, that was when Dusty decided to scream into the near-silent hive mind.

Dusty flailed his hooves wildly before slamming head first into a floating boulder. Spotting his competition below him, he stopped rubbing his sore head and fled to the other side of the rock, using the grippiness of his chitinous hooves to cling to the rock. Peering out from its underside, he reacquired his opponent.

For a pony, Dusty had to admit that he looked somewhat impressive. The bat wings certainly gave him a certain level of intimidation, especially when combined with those eyes of his. They seemed to almost glow in the dim lighting, and with how quiet his wing beats were Dusty knew he would have to stay alert in order to avoid being caught by surprise. He was surprised he’d heard him at all that first time.

The bat pony glanced around, failing to spot Dusty. The little changeling smirked and took the time to look at his new surroundings. There were more floating boulders and rocks and slabs of stone. They formed a strange sort of field with some being connected while others were free floating. Along with the boulders were a few more of those husks. Spotting one that was walking around a little stone bridge aimlessly, Dusty let those familiar green flames cover his body for only a moment.

There, he mused. Now he won't be able to find me so easily, and I can take my time studying his style.

The bat pony was flying around, taking care to not get too close to the floating boulders. Dusty surmised that each boulder was not, in fact, being held up by magic, but by gravity. Somehow, the gravity in this place was messed up, causing places where it changed direction with little to no reason. Over time, pieces of trash had gotten caught in the fields and formed these boulders. He would have to be careful flying around and fight to not get too close. One wrong move could end up with him crashing into the ground.

The smell coming off the boulder he was on made his nose want to commit mutiny. Layers upon layers of trash heaped together did not make for a pleasant aroma. He’d probably be smelling trash everywhere he went for days after this.

Of all the places to hold a fight, it had to be in a sewer with weird gravity, he groused.

As Dusty had quickly learned, this bat pony had a very straightforward fighting style. His obvious advantages over Dusty were his wings and their rather impressive agility. The changeling had seen the bat pony pull off some impressive maneuvers when he strayed too close to a gravity field. There was no way in Tartarus that Dusty would ever be able to turn that sharply.

But this bat pony would never be as quiet in the air as Dusty while he was transformed.

Smirking to himself, Dusty flapped his disguise’s wings quietly, hovering over to a floating stone bridge and quickly landing among the crowd of husks there. Letting those familiar green flames travel over his form again, Dusty made his appearance an exact copy of the nearest male husk. This one without wings or a horn. If he had guessed correctly, then the bat pony would be passing by here shortly. There was a pattern he had seen to the pony’s search.

Sure enough, the bat pony emerged over the boulder. He flapped his wings quickly as he entered the boulder’s gravity field, correcting for the sudden change in direction. His eyes scanned the crowd of husks while Dusty did his best to emulate their behavior and movement.

His ruse must have worked, as the bat pony flew past him. It took all of Dusty’s willpower to not smirk. Instead, he turned around, looking after the retreating pony.

Then, while he had his back to him, Dusty pounced.

“What the—!”

That was all his opponent could yell, before getting caught in a rather painful stranglehold. As he had been flying, the two of them fell a short ways until Dusty was on top of his opponent. All the while, Dusty focused on putting up the performance of his life. He had seen one of the husks go crazy earlier, so he copied that—wailing and crying, acting like he was deranged. He was too focused, however, and failed to notice the hoof slamming towards his unprotected head.

A solid thunk made his entire body tremble, and Dusty had no choice but to let go. But he kept his wits, willing his body to return to normal as he sidestepped quickly to the side. By the time the bat pony had turned around completely, the changeling had practically vanished. In reality, he was hovering on the underside of the stone bridge they had come to land on. Smirking as he heard his opponent coming around to peek over the edge, Dusty flew back over the bridge and tackled the bat pony over the side. The hit was hard enough to send both of them tumbling into the air.

“You really think an aerial battle will net you a victory, bug?!” the bat pony crowed, successfully slamming his hooves into Dusty’s chitin rather painfully.

Dusty winced at the hit. His enemy was strong and probably had either training or experience to back it up. They were both rapidly approaching another boulder and a hasty plan formed in his mind.

“No!” Dusty countered. From what he could tell, the gravity fields of the boulders started anywhere from a few hooves off the surface, to a couple dozen hooves. Soon they would enter the field of the new boulder and be drawn towards its surface.

With a sickening feeling of reversal, they entered the field. Dusty smirked and pushed the bat pony towards the surface, letting gravity do the rest. It was only after he let go did he realize a flaw in this plan, something he hadn’t accounted for.

The gravity of this particular boulder was a lot stronger than normal. Despite buzzing his wings, he, too, fell towards the ground. The bat pony impacted first, only partially successful in correcting himself. Dusty hit a moment later nearby, his knees buckling under the added strain of the landing.

Suddenly, standing was now turning out to be difficult. The impact felt like he’d just fallen out of a tall tree, not the dozen or so hooves of height he had fallen. His legs hurt from absorbing that impact. A low groan brought his attention over to his opponent.

Getting to his hooves more quickly, his opponent steadied himself, keeping his eyes on Dusty. Then, his face set in grim determination, he launches himself at Dusty. The changeling tried to dodge, but the increased gravity was making his movements sluggish. Every move required intense effort.

He managed to sidestep just enough that, when combined with the bat pony’s own increased struggle to attack accurately, the strong charge became a grazing blow. Still, the size of his opponent made it a hard hit all the same. But while Dusty was pushed to the side, hissing in pain, the bat pony misjudged his landing and crashed to the ground.

Dusty pressed his advantage, delivering several strikes to the bat pony’s side before his opponent rolled away, getting to his hooves. Both of them looked at each other, knowing that fighting here would benefit neither of them, but not willing to make that first move.

The staredown lasted for a long moment before Dusty came up with a new plan. “Fuck this,” he whispered. He gripped several pieces of trash with his front hooves, tossing them at the bat pony. The bat pony brought up a wing to shield his face, giving Dusty the time he needed to take to the air.

Fighting the increased gravity took a toll on his wings, but he was able to break out of it and back into normal gravity. Looking back at the boulder, the bat pony had recovered and was also straining to escape. Dusty only had a few seconds of freedom to increase his lead.

A few seconds that he didn’t plan on wasting. Wings flapping hard, he sped up and away, dodging around boulders to try and break line of sight long enough to either hide, or disguise himself again. Facing the bat pony in a one on one battle was stupid. He needed to take a moment to reconvene and think of a plan.

As he flew and dodged, he discovered something else about the gravity fields. Some of them were weaker than normal. It made sense, if there was one that was stronger, then there’d be ones that were weaker.

The pervasive mist in the air also worked to his advantage. He could tell where a gravity field started based on the way the mist flowed and moved. As well, it seemed to change colors slightly when it changed direction. If he really looked, each boulder had a corona of color indicating the edge of the field.

Using his newfound knowledge, he was able to more easily zip around the boulders. Looking back, he could see his opponent struggling with a change in gravity, so he hadn’t figured it out yet. This could work to his advantage.

As soon as a boulder broke line of sight between them, Dusty dove for an opening in the wall. It wasn’t a lit grate, just another, smaller, tunnel, much like the one he had hid in originally. He already knew that the bat pony could at least partially see in the dark, though what the extent of that vision was, he didn’t know. Best to be cautious.

Flapping his wings, he zoomed down the tunnel. It opened up into another sewer much like the one he had just left. The positioning of the boulders, as well as their size, was different, but otherwise it was much the same.

He flew up to the wall over the tunnel, finding easy purchase on the crumbling brick. If the bat pony saw him enter the tunnel, then he’d come zooming out of the same, thinking that Dusty had gotten into the new field of boulders.

After two minutes passed with nopony coming out of the tunnel, Dusty breathed a sigh of relief. “Think I got away,” he said.

Maintaining his perch, he tried to figure out how to beat the bat pony. In terms of raw flying ability, the bat pony outshone Dusty—but Dusty had the advantage of understanding how the terrain affected them. But it was only a matter of time before the bat pony figured out the secret to the strange gravity, as well. Dusty was pretty sure he could fly for much longer than the bulky bat pony, but he lost out on overall speed.

When it came to actually fighting, his opponent also had the upper hoof. Dusty suspected that he was current or former Royal Guard. His moves spoke of training behind them. Dusty had some training, but only enough to win a scrap if somepony figured out who he was, not survive against a trained guard. He’d need to play it smart in order to win.

Dusty looked over at the boulders. I wonder if I can do something with these...

While he had a moment, he felt safe enough to experiment a little. He had no idea how large the sewers were, nor whether they were being confined to a certain area. He may have lost the bat pony for now, but eventually he would be found.

Taking off, he flew over to the nearest obstacle, making sure to be on the far side of it from the tunnel. This one had normal gravity. He looked around, spotting a relatively small one, more the size of a large rock, really, and flew over to it. He put his forehooves on it and pushed. Slowly, the trash heap moved as he was able to overpower the gravity field around it.

His muscles strained as he pushed, wings buzzing hard. Finally, with a grunt of effort, he pushed it past the corona. Regular gravity took over and the entire heap fell towards the larger boulder. Remarkably, it stayed in shape as it fell. He’d expected it to break apart without the gravity field holding it together. When it entered the gravity field of the larger boulder, it changed direction, slamming into the other one with a massive amount of force. A loud crash rang out, causing Dusty to wince. Surely the bat pony heard that and would come investigating. But now the changeling had a plan.

Flying away to another boulder, Dusty repeated his trick of disguising as one of the strange husk things. A minute later, the bat pony shot out of a different tunnel, eyes looking around.

The trash heap Dusty had tossed had rolled to a stop already, though it still looked out of place. The bat pony narrowed his eyes as he saw the discrepancy. Dusty could tell that he knew that he was around here somewhere.

The bat pony flew slowly around the area, eyes scanning everything. He would pause out of hoof’s reach from each husk, watching its reactions.

Being cautious and careful. Time to really put my acting to the test.

Dusty did his best to act like one of the husks. He wandered around his floating platform aimlessly, not seeming to notice anything but keeping a careful eye on the bat pony.

His opponent flew around a collection disappearing from view. Dusty waited, but when he didn’t reappear, he grew worried. He kept up the act, waiting.

After several minutes, his patience was wearing thin. It shouldn’t take that long to search one side. Cautiously, he looked around. The bat pony was nowhere to be seen.

Did he move on?

Dusty was about to try leaving, when a voice spoke up from behind him. “Gotcha.”

Whirling around, he saw the bat pony standing there. In the time it took him to register what had happened, a hoof connected with his jaw and he saw stars. Not letting up, the bat pony pressed his advantage. Two more strikes connected with Dusty’s jaw before an arm around his neck tossed him into the trash on the floor.

Dusty coughed, droplets of green marring the bat pony’s coat. His opponent was straddling him, forehooves raised to rain down blows on him. Dusty brought his own forehooves up, ready to block. He may have less experience than the bat pony, but he was not going to lay down and die.

For several seconds, they traded blows. The bat pony struck, and Dusty blocked or deflected each blow. In close up like this, Dusty’s reflexes were a match for the bat pony’s, though only just. After several seconds, Dusty managed to gain the upper hoof by tossing a foreleg around the bat pony’s neck. Pulling down and rolling with all his weight, he tossed the bat pony to the side. This allowed him a precious few seconds to get to his hooves. He jumped back, using his wings for lift, and landed across from his enemy who was also back up and ready.

The two of them faced each other, neither moving. Dusty felt like he should say something, his training as a changeling taking over. He should introduce himself. Try to get the pony talking, learn more of him and make him comfortable so Dusty could sneak in under a white flag. With a barely perceptible shudder, he fought down that portion of himself.

The time for first impressions and negotiations had long since passed.

The current conglomeration of junk they were on had normal gravity, so the advantage went to the bat pony. He knew how to fight far more effectively than Dusty did. So Dusty had to quickly come up with a way to gain the advantage and enact his plan.

The bat pony pressed the attack again, confident in his physical advantage, throwing himself at Dusty. They collided in a flurry of hooves and blows.

Dusty blocked the initial strike. The impact on his forehooves shook the limb painfully. Based on that alone, it wouldn’t take long for the bat pony to overwhelm his defenses. The bat pony was stronger than Dusty, but Dusty liked to believe that he was smarter. This time, after blocking this attack and dodging that attack, he grinned as his plan came together. Now he needed the moment to enact it.

It was risky at best, and suicidal at worst.

Dusty blocked several more strikes. He could feel his body giving in, cracks appearing in the tough but not invulnerable chiton. However, he could also feel his opponent’s blows weakening. But Dusty wasn’t sure he could withstand enough for the bat pony to completely exhaust himself.

Then the inevitable happened, and Dusty, tired and distracted by pain, slipped. A strike impacted his jaw again, pushing one of his fangs through his cheek. A splash of green added a strange sense of life to the dead blacks and browns of the junk below their hooves. Dusty howled from the sharp pain.

The changeling swallowed, the taste of his blood lingering. The next strike from the bat pony was going to be on the left side of his jaw—he could predict the moves easily now, their fight lasting for more than long enough for the observant changeling. As the bat pony’s hoof came up, Dusty blocked it, knowing what to expect. The bat pony moved both of his forelegs into a defensive position, using his wings to give him lft, ready for the strike that wasn’t to come.

Instead of a strike, Dusty used his forelegs to wrap around his enemy’s hooves. Drawing the bat pony close, Dusty could feel his opponent’s surprise. It almost seemed as if the changeling was leaning in to give the bat pony a kiss.

Instead, Dusty pulled the bat pony forward, pulling his hooves out, sending him off balance. From the new position, he was able to slam a hoof into the stunned bat pony’s skull, then disentangling them from one another.

Not pausing for a moment, Dusty pushed with his wings, hard, shooting right for his fallen enemy. To the bat pony, it seemed like Dusty was turning the tables and attacking the guardspony with his own strategy. But fighting the bat pony like that wasn’t what Dusty wanted. He had another plan in mind.

Using his hooves, he slammed the bat pony’s head into the ground. Then, he wrapped his forehooves around the bat pony’s head tightly. Despite the blows to his head, his opponent had been stunned for only a moment and began fighting back. Despite the blows raining down on his sides, Dusty never loosened up. Gripping tightly, he bashed the head into the ground over and over.

No one blow was near enough to do any lasting damage. The changeling just didn’t have the energy or the strength. However, Dusty wasn’t after doing lasting damage. All he wanted to do was disable the bat pony.

Finally, after slamming his opponent’s head into the ground numerous times, Dusty could feel his limbs go limp. This meant that he was disoriented. Even at his strongest, the bat pony would take several seconds to recover. This let Dusty do what he wanted to do.

Slamming the bat pony’s head into the floor a few more times for good measure, Dusty spread his wings, taking off. The bat pony lay on the ground, recovering. Now was the time to enact his plan. However hasty or stupid his plan was, it was now or never.

Dusty buzzed up to a smaller clump of garbage floating overhead. Pressing his forehooves against it, he strained against the weight, pushing. Finally, the boulder started moving, slowly creeping out of the gravity field.

Meanwhile, The bat pony looked around, struggling to stand. Dusty kept pushing, knowing that it was now or never. With a grunt of exertion, he pushed the trash heap beyond the confines of its gravity field. Just like the last one, it kept its shape and started falling towards the bat pony below.

The bat pony opened his eyes and took full stock of what was going on. His vision must have been full of a rapidly descending trash heap, as his eyes went wide.

“Wha—!” the bat pony said. As quickly as he said it, his reactions took over. His wings flapped as he tried to get out of the way, but something seemed off as he merely hopped forward about an inch.

Dusty dropped, moving as fast as his wings would push him, and slammed into the falling ball, pushing it down faster. “Fuck you! Get squished, bat!”

The bat pony had only a moment to contemplate that statement, all the while trying to recover from being slammed over and over into the ground. “Oh shit!” It was at the last possible second, but the bat pony narrowly avoided being crushed completely. But even still, Dusty’s effort did not go unrewarded as the bat pony let out a blood curdling scream—his wing had been caught and was now pinned.

Dusty grimaced. Despite the fact that it was a fighting competition, the act of destroying—rather painfully—somepony’s means of flight didn’t sit quite well with him. He didn’t have much longer to contemplate it, however, because the bat pony was able to wrench his crushed wing out from under the boulder. With swears and wordless screams, blood dripping from the frayed leather, with more strength than Dusty thought possible he jumped on top of the offending pile and leapt for the changeling.

Despite his best effort, Dusty couldn’t fight the gravity in time to avoid the crazed jump. In the face of his wounds, the bat pony managed to slam into Dusty and send them launching higher and high towards the ceiling—which was quickly looking more like a floor. The incoming brick was all Dusty could focus on, despite the deluge of strikes the back of his mind noticed from his enemy.

Gritting his teeth and with an almighty yell of effort, Dusty was able to spin the two of them around and make sure that it was the bat pony that hit the ceiling. The bat pony was good, very good, and Dusty finally realized that he had known he had never been capable of beating him in any sort of normal fight. Something tricky like this had been his only hope. As they flew higher and higher, he breathed heavy, ignoring the countless sources of pain all along his body. The bat pony kept hitting him, sending shards of chiton and splotches of ichor to join the various clumps of debris scattered through the tubes.

Then they hit and Dusty’s world went black.

He awoke, unsure how much time had passed. Slowly, one hoof at a time, he managed to stand. His breathing was heavy and hard, his entire body nothing but pain. It took a moment, but he noticed that now he was standing on the ceiling, now the floor. And there, at his hooves, was the bloodied body of his opponent. The bat pony was unconscious, beneath him—or above, however it was in this disorienting place.

This was it, this was what he had been waiting for, planning for. Finally, his opponent was laid bare beneath him. No more would he have to skulk in the shadows.

Dusty slowly lifted a hoof, ready to beat the bat pony even further, to cement his victory. His muscles tensed, and he prepared to deal the finishing blow...but he couldn’t.

Heaving a sigh, he put his hoof down, and picked up the bat pony. It wasn’t his way to attack a helpless opponent. Even the few times his true identity had been revealed, and he had had to fight for his life, he hadn’t killed anypony.

Gingerly making his way to the real ground, he placed the wounded bat pony there and looked to the ceiling. Well, I won... now what?he wondered idly.

Suddenly, a beam of light pierced the pervascent gloom. Dusty looked over to it. Something about the light told him he should head towards it. He turned to his fallen opponent. Would it be fine to just leave him here…? Dusty wasn’t sure. But if the bat pony was alive, he might have a chance. That was far better than killing him.

Leaving him to his own chances, Dusty took to the air, doing his best to ignore the nagging guilt at the back of his mind.

With all he had learned about this place, he easily made his way unimpeded to the light, despite several more changes in gravity. The source of the light proved to be a door. Simple, wooden, it was much like the door that had led him to be here. Looking around, he saw nothing else. Shrugging, he opened the door, stepping into the light beyond.

First Blood (Win)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Dusty's fight? Decide who wins right here!

First Blood (Win)

“Welcome, friends, to round one. By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are! Well, look around. Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.” There’s a pause before he adds, “Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

With Discord’s maniacal laughter ringing in his ears, Alcauto stepped cautiously through the door in front of him, into the darkness beyond. There was no strange pulling sensation, no vertigo, only that one moment he was standing alone in small room, the next in semi darkness. The door clanged shut behind him, cutting off his only ray of light and blinding him.

The first thing he noticed was the smell. Feces, mold, stagnant air and other unsavory odors burned his nostrils. It didn’t leave much, if any, to the imagination.

“Dear Celestia, it smells like my grandmother’s bathroom in here,” the bat pony groused to himself, trying not to gag.

Taking a careful step forward, Alcauto’s vision came into focus as his nocturnal eyes adjusted to his surroundings. He was in, well, a sewer. A rather narrow passageway of one. It was pleasantly cool, yet the dank walls oozed condensation and in some places outright poured water from gaping holes. The floors were all but invisible beneath a river of what he hoped was mostly water.

Alcauto nervously resettled his wings and glanced up at the ceiling. It was unpleasantly close, a myriad of pipes criss-crossing through the hall only made the space even more cramped. There wouldn’t be any flying here, even for an agile bat pony like himself. Yet, it did bring him a small comfort that he wouldn’t have to worry about his opponent getting the drop on him, so to speak.

A dim flash of light caught his attention and made his eyes glow. Moving towards the source, Alcauto realized the tunnel was riddled with fissures that either poured water or let out a faint, flickering light. Poking his head into one of these holes, Alcauto was faced with a rather odd picture; it looked like somepony had captured a thunderstorm and then placed it impossibly far away in the hole.

Looking back at his surroundings, then into the hole again, the bat pony’s mind broke a little as to how this could be possible. At that moment Alcauto could have sworn he heard another disembodied chuckle. Giving an irritated snort, he stepped away. Of course Discord would have something to do with it, he should just keep moving and watching for his opponent.

Taking a deep breath, Alcauto steeled himself and began sloshing his way through the tunnel. He didn’t have any particular direction in mind, but instinct told him to follow the flow of water. It all had to go somewhere, hopefully not anywhere worse than this.

He cursed as he banged his head on one of the low hanging pipes, then instantly froze up as the noise echoed throughout the chamber. His ears rotated as they followed the echo’s ever fainter reverberations, trying to decipher any noticeable changes. However, if there were any openings or caverns nearby, they were not revealed to him.

When silence but for the gurgle of water finally returned, Alcauto continued his trek forward. This time, however, he moved slower and more deliberately while keeping an eye focused above him.

Wading chest deep in water wasn't the safest mode of travel, but in this narrow tunnel it was much better than trying to cramp himself onto the narrow ledge. One slip could spell disaster or a big, noisy splash. Just so long as he was slow, he would be nearly undetectable.

Alcauto wasn't sure how long he slogged through the sewer, his sense of time skewed by the endless twilight. All that mattered was keeping himself alive and alert. He could almost feel his stamina ticking away. Eventually he would need to eat and sleep. The worst part was that he didn't know how long his enemy could operate without sustenance, or if they even needed to sleep.

He wondered if Discord was watching. What if he was getting impatient? Surely he wouldn't let them starve to death—he would get bored first, right? From what Alcauto knew, Discord wanted a show.

His next step plunged him forward as the ground beneath him disappeared. With an alarmed cry he was pulled down the tunnel as if falling vertically off a cliff. He was dumped under the flow of water which had become a freefall. It was almost as if gravity no longer pulled down, but sideways.

Unable to right himself, Alcauto did his best to maintain air in his lungs and not panic. It wasn't long before he was flung from the tunnel and into open air. As he spun, he noticed he was now in a large cavern, still as gloomily lit as the tunnel. What he assumed was below him was a large pool of water. Above him, a domed ceiling that disappeared into blackness.

There were fissures and openings everywhere, many pouring water just like the one he came from, yet others that were higher and silent. Everywhere, the little holes filled with distant lights flickered restlessly. The constricting pipes which ran along the tunnel now criss-crossed around the cavern in an intricate quagmire, effectively limiting any fliers to a few hoof lengths from the ground.

The gravity changed again before he could react, throwing him into the large pool. Fortunately, the waterfalls dumping into the cavern concealed his splash with their own spray and echoing chimes.

Somehow finding his way to the surface, Alcauto took a few gasping breaths as he swam to shore. It was a sorry looking bat pony indeed that finally crawled its way onto the cold concrete ledges surrounding the pool.

He lay, exhausted from his trek and plunge, not caring who found him. Alcauto could feel his hooves pruning; which, he decided, was better than him being unable to feel his wings at all. It took a few tries, but eventually he was able to work the life back into his soaked and freezing appendages.

Struggling to his hooves, he quickly located himself a corner to disappear into while he worked his limbs back into service. As he rubbed his legs with his forehooves, he glanced about the cavern, watching for any signs of movement beyond the waterfalls.

To his surprise, it wasn't long before he did catch some movement from one of the tunnels. It seemed his opponent could fly and had adapted to the gravity changes much better than he had. As it gracefully fluttered out of the tunnel entrance and across the pool, he realized it was a changeling.

It didn't make for Alcauto, however, and the bat pony quietly got to his hooves to pursue his opponent. He didn't make it five steps before the lighting dimmed and he lost sight of his quarry. When the light finally returned, the changeling was gone.

Making his way around the pool to where he guessed the changeling would have landed, he began searching for any signs of its passing. There were wet hoofprints, but only in a small area, merely confirming that his quarry had touched down for just a moment.

Alcauto glanced up; there wasn't much space to fly. He hadn't gotten a good read on the changeling's size, but if they were good, then a small and agile flyer could probably navigate the piping network without too much trouble.

Alcauto paused as the air suddenly change its flow, bringing with it a cold whiff of mold and other unknown smells. He stood silently for a moment, twitching his nose and trying to catch any scent of his opponent.

The only problem was that he didn't know what a changeling smelled like in the first place. What if they changed odors when they changed disguises? That would certainly be a problem. Alcauto continued testing the air, hoping to pick apart what his senses were receiving.

A sudden rustle and low growl made Alcuato flinch backwards. It was a good thing as suddenly he was headbutted in the chest and sent reeling. Something dark flashed across his vision, barely discernable from his surroundings. He was pretty sure that his changeling enemy had just tried to gore him on its horn.

Quickly gathering his legs underneath him he scrambled to his hooves and faced where the something had gone. Peering into the darkness, Alcauto could barely make out the shape of a pony moving. If it wasn't for the muffled clack of hooves and the scraping of chitinous armor, he might have missed the changeling.

As it was, he was ready this time. Already Alcauto was crouching low as he took stock of his opponent. He wasn't as large as the bat pony, but had already proven he could be silent enough to avoid detection, even by a night guard.

One of the lights in the wall chose that moment to flash a little brighter, enough to illuminate both ponies. The changeling's eyes latched onto Alcauto, hypnotizing the bat pony as light reflected off its compound orbs. They stared at each other, Alcauto well aware of what his opponent had just tried to do.

The changeling bared its fangs and gave a feral hiss. Alcauto stepped backwards into a crouch, narrowing his eyes and flattening his ears. If the changeling wanted to fight, then by the goddesses he would get one.

They began to circle, the changeling looking for an opening while Alcauto keeping his front forward. The bat pony maintained a wary eye on his enemy's hoofwork, hoping for a chance to catch him off balance. He wasn't too keen on initiating any fight, not until he had a better idea of what the changeling could or could not do. But, frustratingly, he wasn't sure waiting too long was the right choice either.

Distracted with trying to remember anything he could about changelings, Alcauto almost missed his opponent lunging. He scrambled backwards, trying to put distance between them as he flared his wings to carry him to safety.

He pumped once, flinging himself backwards. As he prepared another stroke, this time to power forward and above the changeling, he was suddenly flung to the side as gravity inexplicably changed.

Tumbling hooves over hocks, he caught a glimpse of a rapidly approaching wall, which was now his floor, and a changeling in hot pursuit. Alcauto flailed helplessly, trying to catch air with his wings and slow his sideways decent.

The large cavern suddenly seemed to be much smaller than the bat pony originally thought. Working frantically to right his wings, Alcauto was finally able to pull out of his plunge. Yet, when he swooped around within yards of becoming a smear on the wall, he left the pocket of horizontal gravity and fell back into a normal, vertical pull.

Thankfully, his wing was outstretched and came to no harm as he was suddenly slammed onto his flank and skid ten feet as the momentum from his fall wore off.

Alcauto groaned as he pulled himself up. Glancing frantically behind, he found the changeling barreling towards him. He flung himself to the side to avoid being gored once again.

Finally able to catch his balance, Alcauto pumped his damp wings and closed with the changeling. Using his momentum, he powered a hoof straight at his opponent, who in turn tried to block the punch.

The bat pony was surprised when his blow barreled the changeling head over hooves and up against the wall. His shock was short lived, however, as he pressed his advantage and pounced on his opponent.

They scuffled, the changeling hissing and kicking while Alcauto tried to lock the other down. The changeling fought viciously, but it became clear that the bat pony was the stronger and more capable fighter. With that fresh knowledge in his mind, the night guard pressed his advantage while blocking or turning away any attempts of his enemy.

When Alcauto finally got a hoof around the changeling's neck, it instantly bit down on his foreleg. Unwilling to let go, Alcauto growled and lowered his own canines to the changeling's neck. His teeth grated along the chitinous armor, finding nothing to sink into. But when he twisted to get at the changeling's softer underside, it instantly let go of Alcauto and bucked, throwing the bat pony off.

As Alcauto sprang back to his hooves, the changeling darted off into the darkness. The night guard almost gave pursuit, but decided against it. He leaned heavily against the wall and took a deep breath.

He glanced at his foreleg where the changeling had bit him. Alcauto didn't know enough about changelings to know if their bite was poisonous, but the changeling running away so suddenly made him suspicious.

Sitting down, Alcauto tried to clean the wound in the pool before bringing it to his mouth and sucking. It might not be the perfect method, but hopefully if there was any venom, he would be able to get most of it out. Trying not to think of what was in the water he used, he continued sucking out blood and spitting it into the pool for the next minute.

By the time he was finished, his breathing had evened out and the adrenaline had eked from his body. The bite wound had already closed; Alcauto felt lucky the changeling hadn't thought to tear his skin. Feeling exhausted, he rose to his hooves and turned his eyes in the direction his enemy had run.

The changeling had no qualms about killing the bat pony, it had proven that when it tried to spear Alcauto with its horn. It also had enough skill to avoid detection by him, which made the Night Guard hesitant to give chase. He had never been outclassed in his own element. It grated on his confidence and nerves.

Taking to the air, Alcauto began to carefully fly through the cavern. He discovered that, in this room, the pipes were large and far apart enough that he could land on and fly in between them. It would definitely be worth making sure he always knew how to reach this central chamber.

As he followed his quarry's path, he noticed the few strange smells from earlier lingering in the air. They led him into a large passageway that, surprisingly, had no water running through it. As he glided along silently, he cataloged the smell as being related to changelings. He wouldn't be caught off guard a second time.

Another chamber loomed in front of the bat pony and he quickly recoiled back into the large tunnel. He didn't know if the changeling was watching the tunnel or not, or even if it could see with those eyes it had. Simply waltzing into another room didn't seem like a smart idea.

Yet, he couldn't think of very many alternatives. There was no telling if any of the other passages would lead to this room, if that was what it was. Alcauto frowned and glanced around. Looking up he noticed there were still a few very large pipes that were running straight into the room ahead.

Grinning, he flew up to one and landed with a soft thud. He inched forward, peering into the gloom for any sign of his opponent. The changeling's odor had disappeared, but that didn't bother Alcauto. If anything it made him feel safer; the changeling hadn't thought to come up here at all, which meant it probably didn't realize Alcauto could.

About a quarter of the way into the room, his pipe veered upwards and disappeared into the ceiling. Alcauto settled down at the edge and began to scan the room. It was difficult to see all the corners, but if he waited long enough, one of the wall lights would flare and give him a better view.

He sat quietly, double checking the darkest corners when the wall lights glowed. His eyes flashed as they swept the room. Night vision was useful, but it did have a few drawbacks. Alcauto was well aware that his eyes shone in the dark, but there was little he could do about it.

Contrary to popular belief, he did require some light to actually see; it was still really dark even in this cesspool. Many ponies thought that a bat pony's ability to see in the dark was magical, but it wasn't. Well, maybe a little, but every bat pony learned that their eyes merely worked better than other races. Which meant that if there wasn't any light, even he wouldn't be able to see.

Continuing to scan the room, Alcauto took his time. It was better to be safe than sorry. Eventually his patience paid off, as he peered into a darker corner he noticed something move! His eyes quickly adjusted and he was able to discern his changeling opponent. It was sitting on one of the smaller, lower pipes; an easy position to tackle anypony coming through the passage.

Unfortunately, the changeling was nearer the entrance than he had thought, clearly waiting for the bat pony. Alcauto was glad he had been cautious with his own entrance. He'd had enough of being surprised already.

The changeling shuffled again, prompting Alcauto to make his move. He didn't want the changeling to decide the bat pony wasn't coming and leave. Standing carefully, Alcauto spread his wings and glided straight for the changeling. Doing his best to remain silent, Alcauto didn’t even flap his wings for more speed as he dived.

He didn’t know if the changeling heard him or simply felt as though something was up. But as soon as Alcauto rotated his hind legs forward for a kick, the changeling suddenly sat up and turned around. At least, it tried to; Alcauto was too close to miss.

Still the blow didn’t strike the changeling as squarely as he’d hoped. It knocked the changeling clear of the pipe, but it was still able to recover quickly enough to keep from crashing to the floor. Righting itself, it took off towards Alcauto with a vengeance.

Alcauto swung around with a curse and divebombed the changeling. It tried to dodge, but Alcauto adjusted at the last second and tackled his opponent. They tumbled to the floor, the bat pony losing his grip as they hit. Immediately the changeling took to the air and sped away, Alcauto hot on his hooves.

He quickly gained on his opponent, although following every evasive maneuver was difficult. Alcauto had to give it to the changeling, they were certainly more agile than pegasi, but those flimsy wings really cut down on how much speed they could achieve. At least, that was his conclusion.

It wasn’t long before Alcauto was on the changeling’s heels. Putting on a burst of speed, Alcauto moved in to grab his target. But, before he could lay hooves on the changeling, it slowed, ramming itself into the bat pony and throwing them both to the floor.

The fall wasn’t far, which worked in Alcauto’s favor since he was on the bottom. He wasn’t even winded when they hit, the changeling being significantly smaller than himself. They struggled for a moment, Alcauto trying to maintain his grip on the changeling without getting bit; a rather difficult task in the semi-dark.

A green light flared brightly, almost blinding Alcauto. He shoved the changeling off, realizing it’s horn had lit up at the same time a green glow surrounded the bat pony. His opponent leapt away, trying to push Alcauto back with his magic.

Realizing he’d just let the changeling loose, Alcauto tried to pounce back on his enemy. His limbs felt as though they were in a thick sludge as he powered forward in slow motion against the magic. The changeling stepped backwards, beginning to shake and sweat heavily as it maintained its spell.

Alcauto growled and flattened his ears as he pushed forward. His lips pulled back in a snarl, revealing a smaller version of fangs similar to his opponent. He made it two steps before the changeling’s horn spluttered and went dark. The resistance pushing against the bat pony dissipated and he stumbled forward onto his nose.

A halo of light danced in Alcauto’s vision from the magical afterglow as he scrambled to his hooves, peering around for the changeling. He cursed under his breath, it seemed the changeling had bailed again.

“Get your sorry flank back here, you half-assed insect!” Alcauto shouted. He pounded his front hooves in frustration before galloping out of the room and back into the main chamber.

Nothing but silence greeted the bat pony as he skid to a halt at the edge of the large pool of water. Snorting, he turned and trotted back down the passage he had just come from. He explored the room and found there were two other exits that the changeling could have taken. Alcauto sighed and continued his trek. It was going to be an even longer, dark day.

Passage after passage, room after room greeted the bat pony as he searched for his quarry. If he had been down in a place like this for a tour, it probably would have been really cool. But now, the endless hallways filled with fast flowing refuse grated on his senses and nerves.

A number of times he encountered large chambers with central pools like the first he had been in, but it was now beyond him if he was going in circles or continually finding more rooms. The only constants were the dripping water and dark. Every so often one of the wall lights would flicker a little stronger, but the impenetrable gloom always returned shortly after.

Then there were the weird changes in gravity spliced throughout the entire cesspool. Alcauto almost hit the roof of a larger chamber when he wandered randomly into one. One moment his hooves were planted firmly on the floor below him, the next he was falling upside down as physics toyed with his mind.

It terrified him at first, thinking that the changeling had set up some elaborate magical trap. But when he righted himself and touched down on the ceiling, he noticed there was a slight tint of color that was definitely not the green of changeling magic. It was more of a purplish blue, although hard to tell with what little light there was.

A few steps across the ceiling and gravity reasserted itself, making the bat pony flail comically as he spun around before snapping his wings open and gliding back to the floor. After that, Alcauto was careful to watch for any signs of foul play by the world. Once he realized what was happening, it was easy to watch for signs. Water falling the wrong way, a weird tint of color in the air and, oddly, a tang of cotton candy.

Every so often Alcauto would catch a whiff of the changeling, but it always dissipated or became confused with something else. He wished he could pick up what he smelled like, perhaps then it would be easier to tell where he had been or not. The changes in gravity didn’t help either, continually shifting on him and changing the flow of air.

Now and again he would hear a bang, a creaking of pipes or some other sound he couldn’t place. The cesspool seemed alive, yet he never met another living being. If he didn’t keep running into a scent now and again, he would have suspected his enemy had escaped somehow.

The darkness dragged on him. He may have been nocturnal, but living in an Equestria where you could always look up and see the moon at night was much different than this perpetual black. It played tricks on his mind, whispered doubts to his ears. Each new sound made him stop, if not jump. He felt as though his fur was continually sticking straight out with a prickling sense of unease.

A loud bang ripped Alcauto from his senseless wandering. He swiveled his head to where the noise came from. It had been really loud for ambiance. Another resounding clang confirmed his suspicion. He silently began gliding towards the echo’s origin when a third bang resounded through the tunnels. It was then followed by a loud clang rattling out, almost as if somepony had dropped a large bar of metal on the floor.

Alcauto had the location now; his changeling counterpart was up to something. He needed to be quick, as whatever his opponent was up to, he didn’t want them to be ready when he got there. The passage he was in opened up into another large cavern. Taking a guess, Alcauto decided to check the far end of the room first as the echos didn’t seem loud enough to be on this side of the large pool.

He took a running leap and began to glide silently across the black water. When he reached the far wall it rose up to a ledge about twenty pony lengths straight from the water’s edge. Alcauto flapped carefully and silently upwards and landed. To his right was a corridor that stretched as far as he could see, to his left was a large opening he couldn’t see around.

Creeping slowly to keep his hooves from making any noise, Alcauto peered around the corner of the opening. Nothing. He stepped forward into the opening and his eyes fell on a pile of loose mortar. There was also a broken piece of pipe, its shiny end confirmed that it had just been shorn off. Whatever the changeling was up to, he had just been here.

Alcauto nudged the pile of rubble, scattering it as he snooped around. A green glow erupted in front of him in the darkness, the changeling pouncing forward and swinging something encased in its magic. The bat pony ducked just in time to hear the air whistling through a section of piping before it crashed into the wall next to him.

He pounced forward and tackled the changeling. A clang echoed from behind them as his opponent’s magic sputtered out as they hit the floor. In an instant the changeling had bucked hard, shoving Alcauto off over its head.

Landing gracefully on his hooves and ignoring the pain in his ribs, Alcauto charged again. This time he lashed out with both forehooves and sent the changeling cartwheeling backwards with a satisfying thud.

Continuing his assault, Alcauto made to pounce the changeling again. But before his opponent even finished landing, his horn was glowing again. Halfway through his jump, Alcauto felt something slug him in the back of his head.

His vision filled with stars, and instead of dealing another decisive blow he slammed meatily into the changeling and they both toppled over the ledge. Alcauto experienced a couple seconds of terrifying freefall before he hit the water with the changeling under him.

The stars faded into blackness, but in his semi conscious state Alcauto couldn’t understand why he couldn’t see anything. Had the changeling hit him that hard, did his eyeballs fall out? It took him a few more seconds to realize he was underwater and couldn’t breathe. Panicking, he began swimming in what he desperately hoped was an upwards direction.

His lungs screamed; he hadn’t taken a fresh gulp of air before hitting the water. The next few seconds seemed the longest he could ever remember seconds being. Alcauto broke the water’s surface and flailed, taking great gulps of air as he floundered.

Blinking, Alcauto peered about, his nerves calming as his vision returned. It seemed there was a current in the pool and it was pulling him away from the ledge. He began swimming for one of the edges. His head rang and his neck was on fire. He felt nauseous. The strokes became harder and his breathing ragged. Just when he was starting to panic again, his hoof suddenly struck stone.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Alcauto heaved himself up and collapsed on the floor only halfway out of the water. He laid there for a moment before he became aware of another pony thrashing around in the water. Pulling himself up with a groan, Alcauto rolled over and looked back out over the pool.

The changeling looked to be having a hard time swimming to shore, but it was slowly making its way to a spot not far from Alcauto. Heaving himself upright, the bat pony moved to intercept. He waited quietly as the exhausted shapeshifter dog paddled to shore. It grabbed the side and then hung there, not even trying to pull itself out as it panted, oblivious to everything around it.

Alcauto stepped forward and grabbed the nape of the changeling’s neck in his teeth and heaved. The changeling popped out of the water with a surprised yelp before it was slammed down onto the hard floor with a crunch.

To Alcauto’s surprise, the changeling lashed out immediately, catching the bat pony on the muzzle. He reeled backwards, clutching his nose as blood fountained from it. Alcauto lashed out with a blind buck and hit something with a satisfying thunk.

Taking a moment to compose himself and wipe away the blood, Alcauto turned and searched for his opponent. The changeling was picking itself up off the floor, shaking away the aftereffects of the bat pony’s buck. They charged each other and locked hooves.

They hissed and growled, striking out with hooves and teeth. Alcauto shoved the changeling into a wall, who then in turn swept his hooves out from underneath him. As the bat pony went down, his teeth connected with one of the changeling’s wings and tore it wide open.

The changeling screamed and staggered away as Alcauto jumped back to his hooves. He rushed his enemy, but almost took a hoof to the face as the changeling turned and swung a hoof at him. Dodging just in time, Alcauto stumbled around the changeling as it hissed ferally and tackled him.

Alcauto finally found an opening and kicked the changeling back against a wall. They both stood panting and eyeing each other. Neither growled or hissed at the other, their breath no longer worth wasting on intimidation.

With a grunt, the changeling charged straight for the bat pony. It was almost too easy for him to sidestep and deliver a crushing buck to its side. A sickening crunch echoed through the chamber as it connected with the changeling. It collapsed to the ground in a heap, flailing limply.

Moving forward, Alcauto cautiously peered down at the immobile changeling. It was panting weakly and its eyes narrowed at the bat pony’s approach. Yet, when it tried to stand, it merely flopped limply and whimpered.

Alcauto narrowed his eyes. “It’s over.”

They looked at each other for a long moment, neither moving. The fight wasn’t over, but Alcauto wasn’t sure he could end it like this. He turned away and peered into the blackness around him.

Now what?

Before he could ponder what to do, the changeling tackled him from behind. Alcauto stumbled, but remained on his hooves as it clutched his back. The bat pony instinctively reached up behind him and grabbed the changeling.

He pulled hard, wrenching the weak changeling forward and flinging it to the ground in front of him. Without thinking, Alcauto raised a hoof and brought it crashing down on its exposed neck. There was a meaty crunch as his hoof broke through cartilage and crushed the changeling’s windpipe.

Alcauto stood, transfixed, as the life bled out of the gurgling creature. It took longer than he thought it would, and he watched every agonizing second of it. When he finally stumbled away, he still saw the eyes of his opponent slowly clouding over.

“Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield.”

Barely thinking or seeing, Alcauto made his way to the center of the arena with Discord’s instructions ringing in his mind. It probably took longer than it should have, but eventually a glowing door revealed itself before him. Standing up straight, Alcauto marched through the exit and into the world beyond.

Sticky-Sweet Showdown (Win)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Rocky's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Sticky-Sweet Showdown (Win)

Sticky-Sweet Showdown

Arcanum choked as the old wooden door swung wide and he was assaulted by a sickeningly sweet rush of warm, moist air. His eye adjusted quickly, as the space beyond was only slightly brighter than the interior of the castle, and the unicorn pulled his traveling cloak up over his muzzle to lessen the smell before stepping out into the open.

The terrain before him looked like some sort of jungle or swamp, with thick underbrush and medium-sized, closely-spaced trees whose upper branches grew together in such a way that they formed a nearly unbroken canopy. What light did filter through from above was refracted through a strange, viscous substance that dripped and oozed from literally every surface he could see, bathing the entire scene in a deceptively gentle amber glow. The ground, likewise covered in the semi-translucent substance, had a slight give when his hooves squelched into the moss-like surface.

Tree sap? Syrup, maybe? He used his magic to tuck the ends of his cloak around his barrel, noting that the shallow depressions his steps made quickly filled themselves in once his hooves had left; the spongy matter puffing back up as it soaked in the sticky fluid around it. It left almost no trace that it had been disturbed, and while it required a little more effort than normal to walk, it would not be overly tiring to do so for the short term.

Tracking anything in this place will be difficult, though, he thought as he lowered the cloak and noticed that beneath the sweet sugary odor lurked a pungent tinge of rot and decay. It was not overly hot, but Arcanum could already feel the sweat starting to dampen his coat from the oppressive humidity.

“Welcome, friends, to round one!” Arcanum flinched as Discord’s voice suddenly echoed from everywhere at once. “By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.”

Arcanum heard the wooden door slam shut and was only partially surprised when he turned his head to see that the only thing behind him was more dripping foliage and sticky marshland.

“Oh, and by the way,” the draconequus added, almost as an afterthought, “once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

“Luck indeed,” Arcanum snorted. Aside from the swamp itself, there were no discernable landmarks or points of reference that he could see. Even if he assumed that he had been facing the center of this arena when he entered—which, given the nature of their host, was just as likely as not—it would still be difficult to locate.

His ears pricked up as a wet rustling off to his left captured his focus. He turned to face the distant sound, carefully backing between a pair of ooze-covered shrubs and crouching as the source drew closer. Whoever it was seemingly didn’t care about stealth, but Arcanum wasn’t about to argue the good fortune of getting the drop on his foe. His horn glowed and the air around him shimmered as he cast a minor illusion to make his hiding place appear to be just another part of the underbrush.

A moment later, a strange-looking stallion stumbled through the bushes, struggling against the sticky goo that now stretched between its mottled grey coat and the foliage. It ambled forward in a listless daze, swaying with each step. Arcanum narrowed his eye as the pony stalked closer. He remained perfectly still as it shambled past, and only when it was directly in front of him did he realize that its unblinking eyes had no irises; only tiny, dark pupils that stared straight ahead. He also couldn’t help but notice the lack of a cutie mark.

Not one of the other contestants, Arcanum thought as he waited for the increasingly un-pony-like thing to wander far enough away that he felt safe in dispelling his illusion. He watched the direction the…thing had gone, listening to it crash and squish clumsily through the underbrush for quite some distance. It was then that he realized there was almost no other sound, save for the semi-rhythmic splatter of syrup as it dripped from higher branches to the plants and ground below. There were no birds, no rustling leaves in the wind, nor any of the insect, frog or animal calls that one would normally associate with a swamp.

What he did hear in the distance was the faint echoes of somepony—or something—wailing in terror.

--D--/

“What the heck were those things?” Rocky hissed as he crouched behind a tree, being careful not to lean against the sticky bark. The strange grey ponies he encountered didn’t appear to have pursued him, but the piercing, other-worldly wail they had unleashed when he had walked into their clearing was more than enough incentive for him to flee. Now that he had put some distance between them and himself they appeared to have stopped, and his ears had never been more thankful.

The griffon risked a quick glance around the tree as he caught his breath, just to make sure he wasn’t followed. The air here was thick and heavy; a far cry from the cold, clear sky he was used to in his mountainous home, but his well-conditioned lungs were already getting used to it. Flying was out of the question below the canopy, as the closely-packed trees and sticky vines stretched between them would quickly ensnare him, but his toned, muscular frame was better suited to staying earthbound anyway. As an athlete he was also no stranger to sweat, making the heat a non-issue. All in all, he was fairly certain he could fight at full capacity under these conditions.

Assuming he ever actually found his opponent.

It doesn’t make any sense! If this Discord jerk wants to watch us fight, why make us waste time wandering around? Rocky puzzled. At this rate I’m gonna keel over from the diabetes that this sky-forsaken swamp is probably giving me before I find the other guy.

A sloppy splattering sound—louder and distinctly different from the swamp’s persistent dripping—swiveled Rocky’s head around. He crouched and crept in the direction it had come from, his talons sinking into the tacky ground like a knife through a syrup-soaked pancake. His sharp predator’s eyes saw that the area ahead was brighter than the rest of the jungle, and as he neared his ears picked up a slow, gurgling sound.

The last of the underbrush gave way to the sight of a river comprised of the same maple syrup that covered the rest of the forest. It flowed along sluggishly, the current no faster than a few feet per minute, but it was wide enough that the trees lining either side did not reach all the way across, revealing an open, greyish-blue sky. Rocky smiled and carefully spread his wings on the narrow riverbank. Finding his opponent from the air might be difficult due to the thick canopy, but it was still better than trudging along in the muck.

Another loud plop pulled his attention back down, and he could’ve sworn he saw something move beneath the viscous amber surface. A moment later, a single large bubble slowly worked its way up through the goo, bulging slightly before bursting. Again something moved beneath the slime; this time he was sure of it.

Did one of those weird grey ponies fall in? Rocky cocked his head to one side and leaned closer, trying to get a better view.

The surface of the river suddenly burst, splattering the sugary fluid across Rocky’s beak and plumage, but before he could pull back a glowing yellow collar clamped around his neck. The long chain connected to it snapped taught, and were it not for his reflexive grip on the ground it would have pulled him headfirst into the river.

Rocky went rigid as he fought against it, the pain in his neck swiftly becoming nothing beside the abrupt full-body strain of keeping himself from a sticky, suffocating fate. With an adrenaline-fueled surge of strength and a loud screech of defiance, the chain snapped with a hollow twang, sending the griffon tumbling back from the riverbank and into a shrub.

He scrambled free of the sticky plant, gasping as the collar and short length of chain still attached to it evaporated into nothingness. His eyes searched wildly, but the jungle had returned to its quiet, passive state. The subtle sounds of the maple river, the constant background dripping, and his own breathing were the only ones that graced his ears. His head swiveled, keen eyes searching for movement other than the occasional shaking leaf as it was struck by a falling dollop of syrup, but Rocky wasn’t fooled for a second. His opponent was out there somewhere, watching him.

And that pissed him off a little.

“Is that how we’re gonna play this?” Rocky shouted, voice piercing through the nearly silent swamp. “You’re just gonna hide and take potshots at me? You really that much of a wimp?” He turned, stalking back into the underbrush. “Let me guess… you’re that old unicorn, aren’t’cha? Figures; just my luck to get stuck with the natural born coward.” He paused, listening and watching his surroundings intently, but it became clear that no reply or retort was coming. He frowned slightly as he tried to recall some of the things he had heard more bigoted griffons say in the past.

“S’pose I can’t really blame you… I mean, this’s a fight after all. We all know there’s no way some pansy pony, let alone a unicorn could beat a griffon in a talon-to-hoof matchup,” he continued, weaving carefully through the underbrush in a rough semicircle around the spot he’d been attacked at the river. “Don’t get me wrong; it’s not your fault. Ponies just aren’t fighters like us griffons. You’re always going on and on about ‘friendship’ this and ‘harmony’ that. I don’t know what else to expect when you all sit around worshipping that namby-pamby Princess Celestia.”

“I do not worship that traitorous witch.”

Rocky nearly missed a step at the sudden, venomous reply. It hadn’t been the reaction he’d expected, but he still had to fight the urge to smile. His opponent was definitely nearby; now to seal the deal.

“Oh, do you like the other one then? The one who threw a temper tantrum because nopony liked her and got sent to the moon for a timeout? Talk about a headcase.”

“You will not speak ill of Princess Luna,” the voice growled.

C’mon, just one more. “I’m sorry, could you say that again? Her name is Looney? That’s kinda fitting.”

“Silence!”

Rocky turned in the direction the shout had come from, a wide grin breaking across his beak.

“Whatever you say!” He sprang forward, leaping over a row of sticky shrubs and forcing his way past several others. His powerful hind legs propelled him through the underbrush with ease, though he felt sharp stings as a few smaller feathers were left behind on the syrupy foliage. After just a few bounding strides he spotted the unicorn, partially crouched behind a tree. He dug his talons into the ground for added traction and leaped, his prey’s one good eye going wide as he descended.

The unicorn reared up on his hind legs as Rocky slammed into him, his talons grasping the pony by the shoulders and pushing him over onto his back easily. He struggled for a moment beneath the griffon’s superior weight, but all four limbs had been quickly and expertly pinned to the ground.

Rocky leaned in close to his foe’s terrified face with a victorious sneer. “I think the time for talk is pretty much over anyway, don’t you?”

The pony beneath him suddenly unleashed a familiar wail of horrified despair that sent spikes of pain shooting through his ears and head. Rocky squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his beak, instinctively leaping back to get away from the source of the terrifying sound. The screaming stopped, but before he could fully recover he felt the crushing pain of a pair of jaws clamping onto his left foreleg just above the wrist.

Rocky growled, striking the unicorn in the side of the head with his free fist hard enough to dislodge and send him sprawling away. As the pony scrambled to his feet Rocky’s eyes widened. What had been the old unicorn stallion was now a grey, feral pony just like the ones he’d run away from earlier. It snarled, its nearly lifeless eyes staring at him for a moment longer, but then turned abruptly and scampered off into the jungle. Rocky did not follow, glancing down at his foreleg. He could clearly make out teeth marks and was certain that they’d leave a vicious bruise, but thanks to the tough leathery skin of his eagle-like limb there hadn’t been any serious damage.

“What the feather is going on here?” Rocky wondered aloud.

“I must admit, I’m impressed,” his opponent’s voice said from a short distance behind him. Rocky spun around in time to see a small syrup-soaked shrub—one he had run right past a moment ago—shimmer and dissipate into nothingness, replaced by the sight of his calm and collected opponent. “You broke that chain quite easily, and I didn’t expect you to locate my decoy for at least another few minutes. You are quite skilled.”

Rocky ground his beak. Even this guy’s compliments sound condescending! He resisted the urge to simply leap at the pony, unsure if this was the real deal or just another trick. He chose to circle him instead, taking a few cautious steps with his injured leg just to see if he could still put all his weight onto it. The unicorn responded in kind, keeping his distance from Rocky and preventing himself from being flanked.

“Staying to my left to try and take advantage of my blind spot,” the unicorn appraised. “A wise strategy. Of course, if I am just another illusion, as you suspect, then it doesn’t really matter does it?”

“Who are you?” Rocky asked impatiently. “You’re not like any pony I’ve dealt with before.”

“Oh?” the unicorn raised a brow. “Am I not the—how did you put it—natural born coward you were expecting?”

Rocky shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t normally talk smack during a game, but getting you riled up was the best way to figure out where you were hiding. Don’t take it personal.”

“Not at all,” the pony said with a slight bow. “It was a sound strategy.”

Rocky nodded back, sizing up his foe as they continued to circle one another. “I’ve played a lot of sports where you’ve gotta learn how to read your opponent. I’ve competed against ponies that had just as much guts as any griffon, but you… you’re something I haven’t seen before. You’re... cold inside.”

The unicorn made a pensive face and bobbed his head. “I suppose that’s an acceptable description. To answer your question, my name is Arcanum. And yours?”

“Rocky,” he replied. “Nice to meet ya; nicer to beat ya.”

“I’m sure,” Arcanum deadpanned. “Shall we continue?”

Rocky’s response was another pounce, his talons lunging this time for Arcanum’s throat, but the unicorn ducked in the nick of time. Rocky landed behind his foe with a squelch and spun around to find that he had vanished again. The griffon narrowed his eyes. Another illusion, or…?

He swept his right talons across at chest level, slashing through the empty space. He was rewarded with a barely audible gasp and a slight tug as his talons ripped into something soft. He spotted as well as heard the telltale hoofalls that formed on the ground, scampering away from him. He coiled his hind legs, intending to tackle the invisible Arcanum before he could retreat to the cover of the underbrush, but just as he was about to leap a pair of glowing manacles sprang from the shrubs on either side of him and made beelines for his neck.

He shifted, jumping straight up into the air instead. The magical chains impacted one another and shattered into glowing shards as Rocky landed back down. Unfortunately the distraction had done just what it had been intended to do. Arcanum was gone, and the tracks he left in his escape had already been subsumed by the swampy earth.

“Rats,” Rocky spat under his breath as he scraped one talon against the slimy ground to remove the small scrap of brown cloth that dangled from it. His eyes and ears went back into full observation mode as he tried to watch every direction at once.

“Now where’d you go?”

--D--/

Arcanum panted as quietly as he could manage, his invisibility spell fading away as he crouched behind the trunk of a particularly thick tree. He spared a glance down at his chest and the tear that now ran through the front of his cloak. If that attack had been just a little closer…

He shook his head, banishing such thoughts. I can’t afford to be so careless. He took one last steadying breath—silently cursing his aging body for already being winded—and lit up his horn.

--D--/

The rustling underbrush was all the warning Rocky had before another set of manacles shot toward him from behind, but he was ready. He leaped again, letting them pass below, and only near the apex of his jump did he spot the second pair of glowing chains heading straight for him from the left.

He twisted in midair, using his wings to aid him, and let both slip by on either side. He landed atop the chains of the first two manacles, his paws pinning them to the ground even as he reached up and caught the others in his talons. He tugged them sharply and to his surprise was rewarded with a pseudo-metallic snapping sound as they went limp in his grip. They vanished, along with the ones beneath his paws, just as another rustling sound came from behind him.

Rocky turned with a grin. “This is getting really predictable, gramps!” His smile vanished when he realized that instead of a set of magical chains there was a small, uprooted bush, its leaves still dripping with sticky syrup, flying his way surrounded by an amber glow. Rocky backpedaled and was forced to leap and use his wings for added elevation to avoid being covered with binding goo.

No sooner had he landed than another bush ripped from the ground and hurled itself at him, followed closely by yet another set of chains. Deciding that discretion was the better part of valor, he turned and ran, keeping low and sprinting through the underbrush as fast as his legs could carry him. He ducked and weaved, zig-zagging back and forth through the dense foliage, often doubling back on a moment’s notice. More manacles and goopy shrubs tried to throw themselves in his path, but his eyes and reflexes were more than up to the task of avoiding them.

Still, Rocky knew that running and dodging wasn’t going to help him win. Arcanum was trying to tire him out, and while a contest of stamina was something he’d be willing to try against an athletic opponent, he had no idea if unicorns could even run out of magic the way he could run out of energy.

He glanced back and forth, searching for some indication of where Arcanum was hiding. Bushes and trees flashed past, and he was becoming acutely aware of how much syrup was starting to stick to his feathers and coat. He could hear something moving through the underbrush not too far away, but he didn’t dare stop for a moment to listen. As if reading his mind, another magic manacle whizzed past his feathered head and a shrub toppled neatly into his path.

Rocky leaped over the latter, spotting the low-hanging branch just a little too late to fully avoid it. His wing clipped the tree limb as he passed beneath it, knocking him off balance and resulting in a less-than-graceful landing as the side of his face met the sticky ground. He swiftly regained his footing and surged forward, much more aware of just how desperate a situation he was in. Dammit, where the feather is he?!

Rocky’s eyes widened, his pace slowing for a mere instant as he stared at a particular bush to his right. He turned and sped away with his head down. He kept up the pace for another few moments, making sure he wasn’t doubling back, and continued to dodge the chains that attempted to ensnare him. There! His eyes focused on another shrub as he approached it. He took two more strides before abruptly turning, using a single flap of his powerful wings to give him a boost, and streaked directly into the shrub. He balled his right talon into a fist and struck out, grinning with satisfaction as he connected not with sticky branches, but with the fleshy muzzle of a pony.

Arcanum gasped and fell backwards, stars dancing across his vision even with his eye squeezed shut. Fire radiated from the tip of his nose all the way to the back of his head, and he was only partially aware of the sensation of landing on his side, despite it knocking the wind out of him. He shook his head to try and clear the disorientation, but before he could fully recover he felt more pain explode across his barrel as a follow-up kick impacted his ribcage. Arcanum slid and tumbled across the ground, crashing awkwardly against the base of a pair of trees where he resumed gasping for breath through clenched teeth.

“You need to change up these illusions you keep using to hide,” Rocky chided. “If I hadn’t noticed that I was seeing the same bush over and over again in different places I might never have found ya.”

“I’ll try to keep that in mind,” Arcanum said as he pushed himself up onto his hooves. He was barely halfway there when another balled fist slammed into the side of his head, putting him back on the ground.

“Might wanna stay down this time.” Rocky said as he stepped over Arcanum, placing one foreleg on the side of his barrel and drawing a pained gasp from the unicorn. He flexed the talons of his other foreleg in front of his foe’s face menacingly. “I see that horn glow even a little and these babies will open you up.”

Arcanum glared up at him with pure malice. “Well then? What are you waiting for?”

“Give up,” Rocky replied.

“No.”

“Are you crazy, gramps?” Rocky shouted. “I’m giving you a chance to walk away from this with your life. I’m a griffon for crying out loud! We’re predators, and ponies aren’t that far from being just another form of prey. Give up before I change my mind.”

“I’ve come too far and sacrificed too much to waste the opportunity this tournament provides,” Arcanum said, matching the griffon’s stare without hesitation. “This is the best chance I will ever have to accomplish my goals. I’d rather die than let it slip away.”

Rocky growled and shook his foe slightly. “You idiot, it’s already over! I’ve won!”

A sinister smile crept onto Arcanum’s face. “Have you now?”

Before Rocky could react, Arcanum clamped his teeth around the collar of his cloak and pulled. He lost his balance as his paws, stuck to the trailing edge of the cloak by gobs of syrup, were abruptly pulled from under him. He tumbled back in a roll, coming up facing Arcanum only to see the unicorn’s horn glowing brightly. He braced for another magical onslaught, but as the glowing chains faded into existence around him, they began snaking up the trunks of several nearby trees instead.

The sound of snapping wood sent Rocky’s eyes wide, and with a primal snarl of exertion and a bright surge of magic, Arcanum brought the trees crashing down in a splintery, sticky implosion. The sound reverberated throughout the still air of the mire for miles, echoing past slime-soaked flora and startling a number of the wandering grey ponies that meandered through the swamp.

As the sound faded, another could be heard; that of Rocky’s sharp talons as he climbed up the fallen trunk of one of the trees, his feathers and coat now thoroughly plastered with syrup. He spat out some of the offending substance as he reached the topside of the trunk and scanned the area. Sure enough, Arcanum was gone once again.

“Dammit, this is really starting to piss me off!” he shouted. He tried to spread his wings, but the clumpy slime coating them made it incredibly difficult, dashing any hopes he had of searching for his foe by air.

From his slightly elevated vantage, a brief movement caught his eye in the underbrush a fair distance away. At first he thought it was another of the grey ponies running from the sound of the fallen trees, but his eyesight was just as keen as ever, and the telltale pattern of bluish-purple and brown told him he had found his prey.

--D--/

Arcanum limped through the jungle as swiftly as his exhausted legs could carry him. His breath burned in his lungs, and each heave of his chest was accompanied by a sharp pain in his side. Cracked ribs, if not broken. Pulling down those trees had taken a huge amount of magical force, and just the thought of casting any elaborate illusions, let alone his trademark magical chains made his horn ache. He had to find someplace to rest; to hide and catch his breath. If the griffon caught him in the open now there would be no miraculous escape.

He rounded a small copse of trees and came upon a curious sight. The forest ahead of him was not the slimy, sticky mess that he had expected. Here the ground was still the golden color of syrup, but solid like stone, and the trees were without leaves and covered with a hardened, translucent coating. Arcanum could only assume it was dried syrup, though it looked much more like the traditional amber one would expect from petrified tree sap. The ground itself was mostly clear of underbrush, but featured a number of jagged, stalagmite-like protrusions made of the same solidified syrup.

At the center of the area was a tree that dwarfed the others, its trunk easily fifty or sixty hoofspans at the base. The sight of the massive tree drew Arcanum closer. Decades of experience with magic made it easy to recognize the potency of this seemingly dead tree, and he knew without a doubt that this was the center of the arena that Discord had instructed them to find.

He was so focused on the tree that he did not notice the amber-colored sandpit that he stepped into, his front hooves sinking almost up to his elbows before he managed to scramble back to solid ground. He stared down at the substance, realizing it encircled the central tree like a sort of protective moat, save for one thin patch of solid ground that served as a nearly invisible bridge off to his left.

A crashing sound from the underbrush back the way he’d come snapped Arcanum from his focused state. The griffon was catching up. He took another look at the giant tree and the sandy pit around it, an idea forming in his mind as a smile managed to curl his lips.

It was time to end this fight.

--D--/

“Well that’s weird,” Rocky said as the giant, dead tree came into view. He strode into the hardened and decidedly less-sticky area of the mire and had to crane his neck to take in the topmost branches.

A soft whimper pulled his attention down to the bottom of the tree, where one of the odd grey ponies lay curled into a ball, its expressionless eyes somewhat at odds with its body language and quivering lower jaw. He took a few steps forward only for the pony to spasm in panic and attempt to cover its face with its hooves. Rocky stopped, glancing over the rest of the area and finding no sign of his prey. His eyes narrowed and slid back over to the cowering pony.

“Nice try,” Rocky said. The pony suddenly stopped shivering and stood up, albeit a little shakily, with a grim expression on its face. The air around it shimmered as Arcanum appeared in its place, breathing heavily and cradling his ribs with one hoof.

“It was worth a shot,” the unicorn spat, but Rocky just shook his head.

“You’ve been hiding behind stupid tricks this whole time; why would I still be falling for them at this point?”

“Are you going to keep talking or put an end to this?”

Rocky dropped into a crouch. “Just so you know this isn’t normally my style, but I’m here to prove I’m the best and I can’t let anypony stand in my way. If you’re determined to die rather than surrender, that’s just the way it's gonna be.”

“You’re still talking.”

A growl escaped Rocky’s throat, and he pounced. Arcanum made no move to avoid him as he sailed through the air, his talons outstretched for the kill.

He didn’t expect to fall straight through his prey, and then through the ground, and then find himself half-buried up to his midsection in a soaking, sticky pit of dark sand.

“What the-?!” Rocky attempted to clamber out of the mess, only to find that the more he struggled the faster he sank. With the illusion dispelled, Rocky realized that he was smack in the middle of a wide pit; too far from any edge to pull himself out. He tried to open his wings, but the mess of congealed syrup and matted feathers had no hope of being able to lift him free.

“You were saying something about not falling for stupid tricks?”

Rocky looked up as Arcanum emerged from behind the giant tree, his face impassive as he looked out on the struggling griffon.

“So what now?”

“Part of me wants to extend the same courtesy you tried to afford me earlier,” the unicorn said. “Like you, I take no pleasure in killing… However, I am—how did you put it? ‘Cold inside’?” His horn lit as a trio of golden chains sprang from the sandy pit and lashed themselves around Rocky’s torso and neck, slowly dragging him down.

“Wait! WAIT! I give, I give!” Rocky shouted, the words tasting foul even as they left his tongue. Arcanum stopped, turning to regard the tree behind him.

“It appears our illustrious host feels that surrender is not enough.”

“What? What’re you talking about?”

Arcanum gestured to the tree. “This is the center of the arena. The chaos magic radiating from it is palpable to one who is trained to recognize it. One can never be certain when it comes to chaos magic, but I believe it is enchanted to become the portal back to Discord’s castle when a victor is decided…and it seems that there is only one acceptable condition for victory.”

Rocky’s eyes widened. He fought against the chains and the pit with renewed vigor. “Dammit! It can’t end this way! I’m not going to let—!” His head slipped beneath the sand, silencing further protests. A few seconds later the surface stopped moving altogether, and Arcanum took a deep breath as the glow around his horn faded.

He felt the magic of the tree pulse and turned to see that a door-shaped section of the tree’s trunk had changed into a flowing, oozing mass of fresh syrup through which shone a glimmering light.

“Really?” Arcanum questioned the empty air. He shook his head and stepped through the portal, the sticky slime running over his mane and back as he passed through. As soon as the tip of his tail was inside it solidified once more, leaving no evidence behind that the maple mire had ever been the site of a battle, save for a few broken trees and the forgotten anguish of a fallen competitor.

First is the Worst (Loss)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Arcanum's fight? Decide who wins right here!

First is the Worst (Loss)

First is the Worst

Pushing himself through the door and slamming it shut behind him, Rocky suddenly wished he hadn’t been so hasty to leave.

An empty, featureless room met his eyes, brutally spartan in its lack of… well, everything. It was nothing more than an enormous box with walls.

Whirling on his hindpaws, the griffon’s heart raced upon seeing no sign of the door he had shut behind himself not moments earlier. His heartbeat thumped loudly in his throat, dominating the deafening silence of the room. Second thoughts darted to and fro within his mind as his breath quickened, struggling to keep up with his climbing heart rate.

What have you gotten yourself into, Rocky?

A fight to the death.

Death.

DEATH.

Are you prepared for it? No! If you fail, you’re DEAD! GONE!

There is no next game! No next quarter! I want OUT! I WANT OUT! I DON’T WANT TO DIE!

A heavy clank echoed behind Rocky, eliciting a startled yelp from the maddened griffon. He turned quickly, arms upheld in an attempt to shield whatever made the noise.

What could best be described as an outline of a double-door had been etched into the wall. As it eased outward, Rocky flinched, his fists balling tightly and his entire body tensing reflexively. The griffon inched forward, a rock forming in the pit of his stomach as the room filled with blinding light from the newly-formed doorway. Rocky let out a slow, albeit violently shaky breath.

There was no turning back now.

Despite knowing nothing good would come of waiting in the empty room, the griffon was still unwilling to enter the door, for he knew what was in wait for him. Or, rather that he didn’t know. A fight to the death, but with whom? Or what? And would it be in an arena, or on a world far distant, away from any sort of civilized life?

After a few seconds of frantic processing about his situation, he willed himself to take a step forward.

And then another step.

And then another.

And another.

Step by excruciatingly slow step, Rocky forced himself forward, eventually passing the threshold of the door. He shut his eyes as he crouched low in the doorway. With his beak shut tightly with apprehension, Rocky leapt through the door frame, bracing himself for whatever lay on the other side.

What felt like cold marble met his footpaws, the smooth surface slightly rounded upwards. The air felt similar; cold with strong breezes whipping around the griffon’s upper body. Strangely, he heard nothing other than the wind buffeting his ears; nothing swaying or rustling in the breeze. In-between breezes, Rocky caught a whiff of rotting wood and stagnant water. The knot in his abdomen tightened; this definitely was not familiar. He slowly lowered his arms, opening his eyes simultaneously.

A forest of dead, rotting trees surrounded him, encased in what appeared to be strands of dried tree sap. The hardened amber ran down the blackened trunks in rivulets, pooling at the base of the trees in globular pillows. Rocky looked down, noting that he was standing on top of such a formation, hence the rounded surface he felt earlier. However, something underneath his footpaw caught his eye.

An outline of a creature was somewhat visible. The darkened sky was covered with an inclement-looking overcast, making it near-impossible to identify it. Although, as luck would have it, a lightning bolt crossing the sky gave Rocky all of the light he needed.

It was a pony.

The griffon gasped, stumbling backwards.

In the fading light of the lightning, the half-lidded expression of near-death was clear as day on the poor creature’s face, the eyes glazed over in eternal sleep. Its features were perfectly preserved by the amber, making it easy to notice the numerous cuts and bruises that criss-crossed its body. What was also peculiar was that it lacked a cutie mark entirely.

In an attempt to calm himself, Rocky began to take deeper breaths, hoping it would soothe his frayed nerves. His heartbeat slowed as he continued to inhale deeply; exhale after shaky exhale, he eventually calmed himself to a point where cold logic could take over and just begin to rationalize his situation.

His eyes scanned his surroundings, noticing the hardened strings of dried sap suspended between the branches of the decaying trees. Combined with the inconsistent wind speed and direction, as well as flashes of lightning, he deduced that flight was better avoided.

Recalling the entrapped body that lay beneath him, Rocky knew that the amber was not always hard and unmoving and would definitely be a hazard worth his attention. He tucked his wings tightly against his back; there would be no flying today, unless becoming a griffon-sized hard candy was really that desirable of an outcome.

A disembodied voice pierced the tame howling of the wind, causing Rocky to jump.

“Welcome, friends, to round one.”

Rocky whirled about, searching for the source.

“By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around!”

Hit by a wave of paranoia, the griffon’s ears perked up, his eyes roving the clearing in which he stood.

The voice continued, unmoved by Rocky’s actions.

“Somewhere within the Arena, your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard!”

The voice lowered dangerously, sending a shiver up Rocky’s spine.

“You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.”

“Wh-where are you?! Who are you?!” The griffon cried, still searching for the speaker.

“Oh, by the way, once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

“Wait! Wait…”

Rocky trailed off, discouraged. Whomever had spoken to him would surely not be within visible range, especially since it hadn’t acknowledged any of his replies. Maybe they weren’t even in the same plane of reality, which seemed like a more plausible option factoring in his current situation.

Before any more thought could be applied to said situation, a violent gale suddenly surged forward, colliding with Rocky like an invisible hammer. The griffon was tossed into a nearby tree, crying out as a hot poker stabbed into his left hip. The wind, however, refused to let up, pinning Rocky to the tree trunk.

Squinting in the face of the powerful gusts, the griffon slowly rolled off of the tree, something snapping off of the trunk as he did so. Rolling to his claws and knees, he scrambled behind the trunk, burying himself between two roots in an effort to take shelter from the unnaturally strong weather.

He took this chance to check the throbbing pain that seemed to be burning a hole in his hip, arching his back so he could inspect the damage. A small splinter of amber poked out from the bloody flesh, soaked in a similar fashion to the reddened fur that surrounded it. With a pained grunt, Rocky gripped the end of the shaft, ripping the amber free from his hip. He gripped it tightly in his claw, squinting in pain as he watched the blood drip from the shard’s tip.

His emotions flared, despair creeping into his bones. His grip tightened on the bloody crystal, his claws etching shallow cuts into its surface. Here he was, wounded and undeniably doomed to fight for survival in a forest that prevented flight, plagued with diseased growth and violent hurricane-force gales. Doomed to die like that pony encased in amber.

For now, all he could do was wait.

--D--/

Once Rocky felt that he could stay upright without being blown backwards, he forced himself upright, using the tree as support. The wind had died down significantly, restored to their previous, non-hazardous magnitude, allowing Rocky to step out from behind the tree trunk. He noted that he now walked with a slight limp, as well as a decent-sized patch of blood marking his injury on his fur. He drew in a breath through a gritted beak before urging himself forward.

He wandered the forest, staying close to the trees while attempting to anticipate the next barrage of gusts. He was mostly successful in finding the signs that indicated an incoming “wind-storm,” as he now called them. The wind would start blowing in a single direction for several seconds, gradually building in force. And then, all of a sudden, the flesh-rending gale would rip through the petrified forest, forcing Rocky behind one of the dead trees that populated the immediate area. Although this method wasn’t one-hundred percent efficient in predicting these wind-storms, it was damn-near close to perfect, which was good enough for the griffon.

As he continued to meander the deadened wood, the forest began to become more lively, although Rocky wasn’t sure if “lively” fit the description.

The trees were alive, but they looked anything but healthy. Amber sap poured out from numerous cracks in the bark of the trees, piling up at the roots and running down the branches. More sap was strung between the higher branches of the trees, creating a massive web of sticky ichor between the browned leaves.

What caught his attention was the excessive amount of said sap there was on the ground. Enormous streams of sap inched along like lava flows, creating small islands of the limited, relatively spongy mud and grass; the only areas untouched by the sap.

The griffon clicked his tongue in annoyance as he tossed the bloodied shard up and down. He couldn’t go high because of the sap above him, and he couldn’t keep low because of syrupy streams splitting the safer high ground into sections of numerous sizes and proportions. Not to mention the winds were smattering sap into the air. Several globs of ichor had already hit him on his lower back and shoulders, which smelled like a mixture of sickly sweetness and bitter tree rot.

Another thunderbolt drew his attention upwards, eliciting a scowl from Rocky. The sooner he found his quarry, the sooner he could leave such a miserable place.

Again, he found himself doubting whether or not he could really bring himself to kill someone else. It was never something he had done before; no sport or life-lesson learned from his experiences really explained the rationale behind it. As little as he cared for the well-being of others, the killing aspect of this “tournament” seemed… unnecessarily brutal, and old-fashioned.

Hours passed. The process of finding a safe path through the mire was all that Rocky’s beleaguered mind could handle; only the simplest of thoughts would echo behind his eyes. Step on the root. Duck under the sap. Jump the gap. Skirt the stream. Jump the gap, again. Brace for the wind.

He ducked behind a tree, careful not to press himself against the amber trails that encompassed its trunk. Rocky winced as a hair-thin string of sap slapped him on his cheek, the cold ichor dribbling down his face. Resisting the urge to wipe it away, he continued onwards, plodding across the spongy ground. Doubt returned to his mind, whittling away at his confidence in himself. The age-old question of just what had he gotten himself into rang out repeatedly in his mind, giving the griffon a slight headache. He wondered if he would ever find his opponent and leave this sticky nightmare, and what his opponent was thinking.

Sunken within his own thought, Rocky nearly bumped into a pony as he rounded a tree. The inevitable followed.

“AAAAGH!”

“SQUAWK!”

The two scrambled backwards, both reeling in fear and surprise. Rocky brought his arms up, bringing the crystal shard to bear and bracing himself as he peered between his forearms. In the limited light, he could barely make out his aggressor.

It was definitely a pony. The four legs, large, expressive eyes and average-length snout confirmed this; its long eyelashes indicated that it was a female. Unlike the deceased compatriot that Rocky had found earlier, this one sported a horn. Her coat was a blackened brown, contrasting the almost spectre-like grey of her irises. Her mane was matted and disheveled, numerous sticks and leaves poking out of it like a wavy pincushion on top of her head. Her tail was identical, sporting forest debris jutting out at a number of angles. She stared back at him, eyes wide and ears flattened with raw fear.

The feathers on the back of Rocky’s neck ruffled in anxiety as he brought his arms down slightly, taking a loose guarding stance towards the pony. Although he had his doubts about the possibility, he was still tentative to deny the fact that she could be his “enemy.”

“G-get back!” Rocky stammered, unsure of what else to say.

The pony obliged, although she didn’t go far. The griffon’s brows rose slightly as she pressed herself against the tree, not even flinching as she made contact with the sap. She made no noise, save for her frantic panting.

“Well?!” the griffon spread his arms expectantly. “C’mon! What’re you gonna do?!”

In response, the pony began to scream as she struggled to push herself further into the tree trunk.

Rocky tried to speak out, but the pony’s piercing cry prompted him to clap his claws back over his ears. Through his squinted eyelids, he noticed a large glob of sap sliding down the trunk at a fairly rapid pace—straight for the mare. He barely had time to attempt a warning before the pony screamed again, although the cry was quickly muffled by the sap as it continued its journey down the trunk.

The griffon slowly backed away as he watched the pony continue to scream, her eyes never leaving his. A small bubble began to form as she expelled the last of her breath before disappearing instantly as she drew in a new one. The mare convulsed as the sap entered her nose and mouth, struggling to take a breath.

Rocky was rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the grim spectacle. The mare struggled underneath the liquid cement, her movements slow but sudden. Her head jerked back a few times as the convulsions became worse, her body’s desperation to seek air becoming much more apparent. It was only after the last signs of life left the pony that he could bring a claw to his beak, nausea riddling his abdomen. He turned away, unwilling to watch the mare sink down further under the pillowy amber.

What have I gotten myself into?

He stood quietly for a few minutes, shaky breaths from his beak pushing and pulling his foreclaw. A thought shot across his mind about what the mysterious voice had said earlier.

“Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield.

Rocky glanced around, his ears perked up in hopes of finding the exit to this miserable place. It felt like a hollow victory; he had done nothing to achieve it. It was only the dangers that this place presented that had given him the right to continue forward; to live.

It felt wrong.

The griffon shook off the uneasiness. He was going to live, and that should be his only concern. The round was over, and—!

Rocky stopped dead in his tracks. Not that he wanted to. The griffon struggled to bring his hind leg forward in a normal walking motion, but nothing seemed to work. Finally, Rocky looked down, wondering if he had stepped in sap.

Fortunately, that wasn’t the case. Unfortunately, it was a gold magic aura that prevented him from moving.

Panic seeped into Rocky; first making his heart race, and then scrambling his thoughts as he searched frantically for the source of the movement-impairment.

“Hey! Let me go!” the griffon cried, although he knew whomever was casting the spell would probably ignore his demand.

“Resign from the tournament.”

Rocky struggled to turn around, arching his neck so he could look behind him.

His opponent, swathed in a traveling cloak, stood about ten feet behind the gryphon. It was a pony, judging by the four legs and long-haired tail, although its face was hidden within the shadow cast by the hood. A horn, the same shade of a pale cobalt as the hooves poking out from underneath the cloak, jutted out from under the hood, enveloped in the same gold aura as Rocky’s legs.

“And why should I do that?” Rocky ventured, although he believed he already knew the answer to that.

“Or I will tear you to pieces,” came the reply, the voice cold and monotone.

There was a pause as Rocky dug through his thoughts for an answer, taking the serious tone, as well as the lack of hesitation of his opponent’s voice into consideration. His survival instincts blared warnings all over the place and pushed him to resign, but his cold calculation reeled him back, urging him to think. Haven’t I already won? That pony earlier…

The griffon pushed the pony’s muffled screams out of his thoughts; he guessed that the pony that had perished earlier was not his opponent, as there had been no sign or signal that he had won before.

This was the real deal.

He returned to the question that he had arrived at initially.

Do I give up?

The griffon recalled why he was here. A single wish that he would do anything to bring to life.

Even die for?

With that conclusion, Rocky’s reply was obvious

Slowly, the griffon turned to face forward once more. “I… I…”

The unicorn behind him cocked its head as the griffon’s body tensed up.

“I REFUSE!”

Rocky pivoted on his hips, extending his left arm while simultaneously releasing the crystal shard he had been holding. The bloodied splinter flew true—straight into the center of the unicorn’s hood. To his surprise, the horn and hooves vanished, and the traveler’s cloak floated silently to the ground. However, the grip on his legs also deteriorated, allowing him to break free of the restriction.

The griffon darted off to the edge of the clearing, his legs pumping furiously to get him as far away from that place as possible. If his opponent was a unicorn, there was no telling as to what he would do to him. If this unicorn was capable of such an advanced illusion, it was obviously someone not to be trifled with; someone adept in magical skills and abilities. However, nothing could happen if Rocky was out of eyesight. Even if the unicorn was capable of moving all of the trees and rocks out of the way, no unicorn, save for an alicorn, could even stand after such a feat. The griffon glanced at the sky, knowing that he could fly faster than he could run. The sight of the sap interrupting a clear view of the uninterrupted cloudcover was all that kept him from doing so. No, there would be no flying unless he was going to resign.

And so Rocky sprinted onward, careful to avoid the tree sap crossing his path in strings, streams and lava-like flows. After a few minutes, he slowed to a stop next to one of the trees, breathing heavily. He glanced back, his piercing gaze searching for any signs of a pursuer. Save for the constant breezes gently whispering in his ears, the forest was silent.

He readied himself to move, taking a few deep breaths to get oxygen to his burning muscles. Just as he began to run, the cold voice returned.

“So, you choose death, then?”

The griffon’s legs were frozen in place again. Rocky snarled as he struggled in place.

“Say you resign, and this can stop.”

“Urgh!” The griffon writhed madly in the magical grip.

“I… I don’t want to kill you. But if you say nothing, you’re going to leave me no choice.”

Rocky stopped struggling, glancing around in hopes of finding the caster. “Rraaagh! This…! You’re—! This isn’t fair!” he snarled, resuming his struggle.

“Fair? Fair?! You want me to be fair?!” a voice retorted behind him, its tone just as frustrated.

“If I’m fighting for my life, of course I want it—!” A bolt of magic slammed into the back of Rocky’s neck, forcing his head to whip forward and sending a lance of red-hot pain down his spine, eliciting a feral roar to tear through his throat.. As he went limp, the magical grip on his legs dissipated simultaneously, allowing him to fall to his foreclaws and knees. He coughed and spat, tasting copper as he did so.

“All my life, I’ve dealt with the unfairness to such a magnitude that you could never possibly know, youngling!” the voice continued. Rocky was too dazed to move, opting to stare intently at the blood trickling from the holes on the top of his beak. What felt like flames began licking between his shoulder blades, the air thrumming with magic energy.

“Now… Since you leave me with no other alternative, I think I’ll—!”

Rocky whirled about, swinging his left arm in a wild attempt to reach back towards the unicorn. He succeeded in startling his opponent, whose magic flickered, unable to simultaneously restrain Rocky as well as charge another bolt of magic. Freed from the ethereal grip, the gryphon stumbled backwards, but managed to remain upright. His vision still filled with stars from the first magic bolt, Rocky shook himself, attempting to restore clarity. Still blinking furiously, he charged at the unicorn, who had leveled its horn at the griffon. As luck would have it, Rocky tripped on a gnarled tree root, landing beak-first in the spongy grass. Fire erupted on his left wing as the second magic bolt grazed it, forcing Rocky to arch his back in anguish.

Frustration and anger gripped the griffon as he struggled to stand, peering between the feathers that fell across his eyes as he searched for the unicorn. The equine was standing a couple feet away, still charging another bolt of magic. Grabbing a clawful of mud and grass as he stood, Rocky flung it at the unicorn, who responded by shooting the projectile out of the air with magic.

Realizing that the equine had wasted its shot on the mud, the griffon charged, hoping that it didn’t have anything else up its sleeve. His gamble paid off—just not in the way he imagined.

As he made contact with the creature, it disappeared, sending him slamming back into the soft dirt again. Rocky scrambled upright, his head on a swivel. The griffon’s head snapped to the left as a bolt struck it. Rocky cupped a hand to his right ear as he stumbled forward, struggling to stay upright. He gazed about, hoping to catch a glimpse of the voice’s owner. Two more bolts slammed into Rocky’s back, bringing him to his knees. A third impacted on his side. Something snapped, joining the primary pain surge of the magical blast.

A hoof stomped on Rocky’s back, forcing him to lie flat. The griffon cried out in anguish.

There was a pause as the hoof lifted off. Through half-lidded eyes, Rocky noted the surrounding area was glowing gold; another bolt of magic. Easing himself onto his good side, the griffon finally got a clear glimpse of his opponent.

The unicorn’s eyes were the first thing Rocky saw. Piercing gold, the same gold as the magic aura that illuminated the clearing, stared straight through the griffon. Well, one of them did. A trio of scars were visible on the left side of the face, one of them crossing through the equine’s eye, which was greyed out. His left eye was slightly squinted, glaring hatefully at the bloodied griffon.

Rocky’s attacker bore a paler, much lighter shade of indigo on his coat, his mane neatly parted in the middle, but bearing signs of age: Numerous hairs were beginning to grey, creating streams of silver separating the sea of brown into random sections. His only facial hair was a long soul patch, which curled backwards down its length and shared the gradation into a silvery grey that his mane did.

“I believe you have the right to know my name before you die today, griffon,” the unicorn spoke. Rocky remained silent, struggling to stay conscious. “And I will grant you the courtesy of me knowing yours.”

The tame breezes increased in intensity, now blowing in a single direction: straight against Rocky’s face. “My… My name is Rocky,” the griffon croaked, his bruised and cracked ribs making simple talk difficult.

“Rocky… Rocky, my name is Arcanum; die well.”

The unicorn’s horn brightened further, making Rocky squint.

Suddenly, the wind picked up, roaring and ripping around the clearing. The griffon took his chance, opening up his wings to their full span. Pain shot up his damaged wing as the wind strained his muscles, threatening to break the cracked bones within.

The unicorn howled in anger, firing off the massive bolt of magic he had been charging after the griffon. Rocky clenched his eyes shut as he spun helplessly in the wind, hoping it would miss. The wind tearing around him was the only noise he could hear as he was carried higher and higher, spinning him at dizzying speeds.

After a few more terrifying seconds, the griffon could feel himself falling again. He opened his eyes, noting the reduced strength of the wind. Rocky’s eyes widened slightly as the treeline raced upwards to meet him. Instinctively, he struggled to flap his crippled wings in a vain effort to pull up.

Instead of being met with disease-ridden trees and sticky sap, Rocky slammed against a thick strand of hardened amber, which shattered under his weight. He bounced off of a crystalline tree trunk once before landing on an incline of hardened sap, rolling down before his foreclaw stopped his progress. The griffon’s consciousness fading, the overcast skies were the last thing his vision could register before fading completely.

--D--/

The first thing to return was the Rocky’s hearing. The gentle buffeting of wind against his eardrums told him he was awake. He opened his eyes slowly, his left having trouble due to what felt like swelling. His body ached something awful, but for now, he was only happy to be alive. The griffon struggled to sit up—before a hoof pressed him firmly onto his back.

Rocky’s eyes shot open, his head jerking about in an effort to find the one responsible. Arcanum stood above him, hair now a tousled mess from the wind. He panted heavily from having used a good amount of magic earlier, although not all of his magic was depleted. A crystal spike rested in a faint gold aura, only raising slightly before driving down towards the griffon’s face.

Time slowed as Rocky remembered his goal.

To never be forgotten; forever immortalized in history by—!

No.

I want to live.

I JUST WANT TO LIVE.

In an instant, Rocky shielded his face with his foreclaw, screeching in pain as it drove deep into muscle and bone. The end of the spike burst through his arm, millimeters from his face. With a feral roar, the griffon rolled over, extending his good arm towards the unicorn. Digging his claws deep into whatever he could grab, he yanked it towards him, ignoring the hot liquid that trickled down his arm. He opened his beak, clamping down on his catch and whipping his head from side-to-side.

I WANT TO LIVE!

He whipped his head back, spitting out whatever came off and repeated.

I WANT TO LIVE!

Again. He came away with bits of something hard, this time.

I’M GOING TO LIVE!

Again. Arcanum jerked a few times before lying still.

I JUST WANT TO… To…

Rocky forced himself to his knees. He gagged, emptying the contents of his stomach onto the ground in front of him.

Lightning illuminated the body, its reflection dancing in the blood pooling next to the jagged hole in Arcanum’s neck. Rocky tried to wipe the blood from his beak, although he only succeeded in smearing it. The griffon struggled to his footpaws, his one good foreclaw still trembling. He gagged again, shaking his head in a vain attempt to dispel the intense nausea. He turned away from the body, feeling his nerves fraying at the sight of the corpse.

Correction: The pony he had killed.

The fading adrenaline revealed waves of immense discomfort radiating from his other arm, which still contained the crystal spike embedded within it. Mind numbed from the ordeal, all could do was put a hand over the entry wound, although he made no attempt to remove the spike. Everything hurt; all he could think about was leaving this miserable place.

As if on cue, a door appeared, behind Arcanum’s mangled body. It opened, spilling blinding light into the area.

In disbelief, Rocky slowly advanced towards the doorway, not even bothering to shield his eyes from the light. He squinted, ignoring the silhouette of Arcanum’s corpse and moving to the door.

Before crossing the threshold, the griffon took a last look at the unicorn behind him.

Wordlessly, he stepped through the door, turning to face forward before being enveloped by the light.

Attraction and Repulsion (Loss)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Thunder Hammer's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Attraction and Repulsion (Loss)

Attraction and Repulsion

"And probably a black coat, so sexy. Oh and green mane, we should match, it's like destiny! Well, this is dyed, but you get the idea, don't y—"

Ember stopped her rambling description as the door behind her vanished. There was a very good chance that Discord hadn’t even been listening to her list of very important requirements, but that was fine. She had a written version of her list after all. For a supposedly reformed creature, Discord had sure seemed determined about the whole “Kill each other” thing. But with a prize this good... Well, you had to break a stone to find a gem, right? Those old sayings had to have some merit to them.

She took the time to look around and realized that she was sitting in a stone room with a single, rickety chicken wire fence door. Not dissimilar to the type she saw on mines all over the place back home.

But really, this looked like a very poor mine, if indeed that was what it was, as whomever had made it got barely ten pony widths into the rock before stopping. Then for some reason they had made it cubic. Not a very efficient way to find ore.

It would be a great place to bring a date, though! No holes to fall into, though that one time had been fun...

"Okay, fine, I'll go, but we have a deal, Discord! Either you or the perfect stallion!"

She then turned and walked out of the door, only to immediately slam into the ground with considerable force.

"Okay, fine. Just the perfect stallion. Jerk."

She realized after a moment that her whole exoskeleton was being pulled to the ground, along with her goggles. The pressure felt like being tied down or laid on, a feeling she was intimately familiar with. She had to fight back a moan, her hindquarters wiggling in an aching need.

Once she realized what the feeling reminded her of, she blushed through her red coat and squirmed a little more, trying to free herself, to no avail. This only darkened her coloration, and she giggled softly.

"Oh you sneaky draconequus, you did your research on me! Come on, I'm helpless, you know you wan—"

‎"Welcome, friends, to round one."

Ember pouted with all the disappointment a mare could express, looking up toward the voice plaintively. "Friends? I'd hoped for lover, long lost beau, we were meant for each other!"

She did notice, as Discord spoke, that the force tugging her down only affected her toolbag, goggles, and exoskeleton. It seemed magnetic, rather than a force designed to hold her down. Discord probably hadn’t known about her kink after all. Still, it was his fault that she was turned on!

"By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.”

Ember giggled.

“Let’s hope they’re more ‘capable’ than you!”

“Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!‎"

"I wasn't thinking any that," Ember sighed as the voice faded out and the sexual grip of the magnetic stone began to let up.

"I was thinking, Discord is a jerk and doesn't finish what he's started."

Once she could stand, the earth pony looked back to the door, which was gone, of course.

"A sexy jerk, admittedly."

Finally, the aroused and frustrated mechanic looked about herself to observe her environment.

Naturally, it looked like Discord had designed it while huffing paint fumes. Stones all around seemed to float, clanging together like cymbals, exploding into dust and debris, as they followed the island-like spires that would occasionally shove the rocks away in a burst. They would scatter against other islands, which would again push them away or sometimes gather them like a mother hen pulling her chicks close.

While observing all this, ‎she heard a clattering. She would almost say it sounded like a stampede, but she didn't see any other equines, much less a whole herd.

The cloud of magically floating stones that seemed to be moving over the peak behind her in an eerie cloud of death, though, that could certainly be a problem.

As the stones fell, rattling against the ground in a torrent of gravel and hoof-sized rocks, Ember ran away from them as fast as she could go. She was quite happy that the magnetic pull hadn’t lasted much longer though. She might have still been trapped against the ground with pebbles pelting her.

Every once in a while, a rock would smack against her rear. She would cry out in a combination of embarrassment, pleasure, and ‎anger, before sprinting ever faster across the rocky ground, tail tucked between her legs.

At last, she found shelter under an overhang on the opposite side of her little island, panting to catch her breath a bit as the last of the storm pattered against the island in a hail of marbles.

With a growl, she drew a sheet of paper from her bag that she laid out flat. It had once been a flyer for the most renowned mansion of the sexually provocative in all of Equestria. She had once considered joining the place’s staff before deciding she appreciated a more private experience. She flipped it over, and there was her list.

Titled "The perfect mate," the list seemed disjointed and sporadic, and it continued like this:

Male and/or female

Bigger, stronger, and sexier than me (if possible)

No deformities or illnesses

Smart

Knows how to perform "maintenance" on an "Ember-powered steam engine"

"Properly lubricated"

Green eyes

Actually, red eyes

No, one red and one purple

Maybe color changing?

She then took a mechanic's pencil from her bag and with a flourish added "Not Discord."

After underlining this latest entry on her list several times, Ember put it away and stepped out from under the protective cubby, only to stop and stare at one of the fallen rocks that had latched onto her tail.

"More magnetic...crud."

She took the time to remove the stone and toss it away. Then she picked her way to higher ground as carefully as she could. From that vantage point she observed her island, with three chains of stone linking it to other solid spots high above the waves below. One of those other solid spots was actually hovering, instead of being a spire from an island like the rest.

She decided that a hovering rock island was more interesting and latched her metal tail-hook to the ground to lower herself down the cliff face. This let her get closer to the stone bridge that would lead her to the magical floating island.

That moment, as she was lowering herself down, became remarkably odd.

For some reason, she was getting further away from the wall, instead of sliding down it. That in itself would have been odd, but on top of that she saw a grey pony hugging a rock while screeching in terror, being propelled ever faster away from the ground and into the sky.

"Huh... So...repulsion?"

She gasped as the pushing faded, and she fell back towards the cliff face.

Twisting at the last moment, she landed with all four hooves, her tail straining under the shock as her line stretched taut. Finally, her claw released to drop her two pony lengths onto the path. Winded and nursing sore hooves, she noticed that the wailing noise was getting louder...and louder.

She looked up and rolled out of the way, wide eyed.

The odd grey pony’s lift had faded too, so he fell. Hanging off the bottom of a rock as big as he was, as it plummeted down ever faster.

She hid behind her forelegs as the horrible sound of rending bones and cracking stone filled the air.

When she opened her eyes and lowered her shaking hooves, her red coat was speckled with another type of red, the empty eyes of the dead stallion looking at her. They looked confused.

She stumbled backward away from the horrific sight. She then ran.

\—D—/

A while later, Ember found herself at the base of her island, shakily cleaning her coat in the water.

Sure, she had seen dead ponies—mining was a dangerous profession—but she'd never been there. She hadn't seen somepony die. It could have been her. She could have been flung from the island if she hadn't been latched on. Nervously, she latched onto the cliffside ‎behind her as she washed up and checked her bag of things several times.

She didn’t think the stallion had been her opponent. He hadn't had a cutie mark after all. What sort of pony wouldn’t have a cutie mark?

She got out her list and shakily added a pair of new lines.

“‘Has a cutie mark’...and...’Is alive’.”

The path back up around her island was treacherous, and she had to cling to the stone or struggle not to be flattened by the alternating magnetic fields several times before she made it to the bridge. She tried to latch onto the opposite side, but the varying fields around the bridge threw her hookshot wide, and she instead took the grabby end in one hoof and used it to anchor herself to each rock as she went.

‎About halfway across, one of the stones sent an excruciating bolt of electricity through the metal appendage, and she let out a horrific scream of pain, barely staying on her rocky perch as it swayed in reaction to the released energy. She couldn't get her tail to latch, as she lay there, recovering. That was not a good type of pain.

The pain faded soon enough, and this time she nervously crossed the rest of the bridge on her hooves, covered in her glove-like rubber engineer's sleeves. Her metal shot retracted, she made it to the other side with relative safety and cautiously latched onto the floating surface. She was relieved to find it was inert for the time being.

That platform was‎ flat save for a tree that covered a quarter of the surface and sheltered a small bush and spread of grass. As she moved closer, her stomach growled, and she smiled up at the inviting branches.

"Oh, how nice. Maybe you aren't so bad, Discord. Well except for the whole contest to the death thing. That's never good."

She tore up a few mouthfuls of the grass before laying down to rest.

"I could stay here awhile."

"I wouldn't advise it, ma'am."

Ember rolled and leapt back away from the gruff voice, her tail whipping to pull her up into the tree. But the latch grabbed a chunk of leaves instead, and she gulped when she spotted the newcomer: A literal knight in shining armor, crackling with electricity that seemed to skip across the surface of the metal plates.

The stallion was wielding a lance that looked sharper than any weapon that she had on herself. His face plate was raised to let her see his eyes. They examined each other from across the island, the knight and the lady.

\—D—/

Thunder Hammer had walked from his stone block room and out onto some sort of beach, with frothy waves tumbling over themselves and similar islands nearby, with towering rocks and cliffs that he turned to confirm were similar to this island.

Instead, a wall of dead warriors twitched feebly, blood dripping...

A blink and it was a plain ‎rock face, stretching up about five times his height. Breathing heavy, he slipped off his helmet and splashed some of the cold water onto his mane.

He couldn't forget... But it sure would be nice to be in control.

The helmet went back on, and he pulled his wet mane through to form the crest. It was a fight to the death, after all. Even if it was a selfish goal, he wouldn't be improperly dressed.

Conveniently, a cliff side ‎path led up the island’s peak, and, as he ascended, he noticed something ominous.

What he had thought were dark stormclouds or gliding birds were actually stones that defied gravity to hover and glide across the sky. Eerie and impossible, ‎yet they were there.

Among the rocks, unreal angels flew, carrying away his friends and comrades. Thunder averted his eyes and continued on his path.

The world around the brave knight was always ethereal, the visions and illusions nothing new. Yet something of this world made it even more chilling. The impossible qualities of sudden weight or lifting force confused him. The rocky islands floating above made it even easier to become disoriented.

It was in such a state of confusion that he found a pony standing ahead of him. Black pitch coat and ratty mane, the stallion mirrored Thunder’s own haunted expression. As he raised his lance, the strange pony raised its mouth to the sky and howled a keening death toll. It then charged.

He barely had to lift his weapon to bring it into line. Never before had Thunder seen a pony charge headlong into a lance; it went against every instinct. Yet the stallion drove itself deep against the steel until it came to a shuddering stop mere hooves from his nose. It was not an honourable fight, it was the killing of a sick dog. No more or less meaningful.

With a huff, he shoved the body over the cliff edge and looked around to observe his surroundings. While standing on one island he was able to see too many others to count, spread out across and above the sea. Most were speckled with greenery and trees, but his was bare.

A flash of warning red gave him pause, before he began to approach the bridge to the island on which there had been a flash of color. A fire, or another pony? Maybe his opponent?

Before he could find out, he had to cross one of those floating stone bridges. He sighed and gingerly set an armored hoof onto the first chunk of magical stone, only for his hoof to slip right off, as though pushed away. He wheeled and sat back on his rump to keep from toppling forward. He then tried again, with a similar result. The closer his armored hoof got to the rock, the harder it was to approach, until he was shunted aside. So he instead reached over it to the next rock which seemed to behave normally.

Carefully stepping over the pushing stone, he came to rest with all four hooves firmly planted on the magically levitated platform. From there he had little trouble except for the last rock. At that point, lightning sprung forth and struck his armor, only to harmlessly dance across its surface. Insulated from the metal, he just smirked as he finally reached the end of the bridge.

There, on green grass in the midst of a strange land, a fiery earth pony mare lay with some sort of lense contraption strapped to her head just above her eyes.

"I could stay here awhile."

She spoke as though this was some sort of vacation, a retreat to the island of magic rocks. He spoke as he stepped closer, readying his lance.

"I wouldn't advise it, ma'am."

\—D—/

A big, tough stallion. In armor no less; how seductive. His grey coat seemed to mirror his armor, and a pair of brown eyes watched her carefully.

“Well, a knight in shining armor. Are you here to whisk me away?”

She stopped as she caught the coldness in his eyes. There was something wrong in there, and she suddenly didn’t feel like being swept off her hooves by him. No, she felt like running.

But there was a chance that he would be able to get to her before she could escape, and that lance didn’t look friendly. Especially not with streaks of rust-red blood marking it. He must have killed one of those poor grey ponies. How sinister.

“Neigh, I am spoken for. I am here to strike down all that stand in my way, to reach my goal.”

Typically this would be quite a joke, or at least laughable. Yet this stallion seemed quite open with his intentions.

“Well, I’m not...standing in your way, necessarily.”

As she stepped slowly away from him, he took a single heavy step toward her.

“I must kill you to continue on my quest. I apologize.”

Seeing a rapidly closing window for escape or bargain, Ember gulped and stepped till her tail brushed the tree.

“What...is your name?”

He snorted. “Might as well do this properly. It is Thunder Hammer. Knight of the royal guard. Who might you be?”

Ember batted her eyelashes and held a hoof up to her chin demurely.

“Who, me? My name is Ember! I’m a mechanic! You could say I work on...the machinery, if you catch my drift.”

The wink and giggle only made Thunder sigh and roll his eyes.

“No. I do not, but I can guess.”

“Well, don’t be a stranger, why are you here?” Ember asked swiftly, trying to avoid a lull in the conversation.

“I was sent here by Discord,” he growled. “Same as you were, I’d venture to guess. We all have our own quests.”

Ember nodded, probing for the edge of the island with her grappling tail, finding it only a pony length behind the bushes.

“What...is your quest?”

“To seek...”

For a moment, the strange knight seemed puzzled, as though unsure what he was seeking. This was Ember’s moment to strike.

Leaping over the bush and off the edge of the floating island, her tail latched to the bottom of the stony disk to swing her back toward the other side.

Silently praying that she would not fall to the crashing rocks and waves below, she let go and flung her whip-like tail to latch onto a bridge-stone which she was happily pulled to by its magnetic force. At that moment, a great roar came from behind her, the knight having found her entirely vanished from the island. Rather, she clung to the bottom of the smaller rock and carefully edged her way across from beneath.

At long last, she came to rest on the other side of the bridge on a new island altogether. Thick with bushes as big as ponies, the magnetic pull was slight but enough to make standing for any length of time uncomfortable.

Settling into the brush, she waited for the stallion to wander by. This quickly proved to be a poor plan. The sun didn’t move and it was impossible to tell how long she had been waiting. Eventually she spotted a hill sticking out of the sheltering shrubs with its own scattered bushes. This offered just enough cover for her to ascend while keeping out of sight. Using this method, she was able to spot her enemy again.

Pulling out her flyer and flipping it over again, she stared at the searching knight with a scowl before adding two more items to the list.

“‘Not a knight’ and “Mentally sound’.”

She put it away and began formulating her plan. Clearly, she was going to have to go to him, not the other way around.

Stalking and planning to kill somepony gave Ember a sickly feeling in her gut, like being asphyxiated for just a little bit too long, and she started to wonder what her papa would think of her. This certainly wasn’t a conventional way to get a partner. Neither was it something that the old mine operator would see as “good.”

In fact, the eternally kind and benevolent old man would have likely admonished her for not adhering to the teachings of Celestia or Luna. The alicorns were the closest that her town had to moral leaders. Though, living in a mining town, a pony found out pretty quickly that burly, overworked stallions had a hard time following those same teachings. Hypocrites.

But it was a chance that she had to take, to get what she wanted. This one action would guarantee her a mate that she would like. She could ask for somepony that wasn’t just a stallion, even. She could have the best of both worlds!

She could have Luna herself if she wanted, she realized. Except a mare and a stallion and with tentacles. Maybe even half dragon with a bit of Nightmare Moon in there. The pictures of the night being were quite attractive, as the stack of them under her mattress back at home could attest.

With new enthusiasm, she started gathering rocks from her new island, and planning for an ambush.

\—D—/

Thunder Hammer turned yet another corner in this endless maze of islands. That cursed mare had escaped, somehow. Without a body or any sign that the contest had been completed, he had to assume the enemy was still around.

The edge of constant danger made Thunder Hammer feel far removed from his own mind. The mind of a warrior was guiding him now. He had left his lance on the floating platform, after seeing that the spritely mare was too quick to be speared in a charge. Instead, he rested his warhammer across his back. The massive hunk of metal was designed for crushing armor but it would do just as well against limbs and annoying heads.

There was a hunger eating at him to win. Despite not knowing much of this “Ember” she was an obstacle and a genuine annoyance to him. A taunting figure moving through his hallucinations and the vivid figures of his fallen friends.

With so much confusion and impossible sights all around him, he was quite surprised to find the mare’s lense contraption laying on the ground ahead of him. Cautiously he approached while looking all around. There seemed to be no trail of blood or other objects that would suggest that she had been attacked. Instead, the glass disks shone in the sunlight as he grew closer. Something caught his eye.

Something red in the reflection of the glass...

It was too late, as a roar and crash of magically attracted stones came crashing down the hill next to him, slamming the brave knight to the ground with a groan. The rocks only clung tighter to his armor as he struggled to be free of them. A whole pony or two of weight held him pinned as his breathing became frantic.

“Did I getcha? Yeah, I got ‘em!”

He pushed and pulled and struggled, trying to regain his footing. But the cursed rocks! They held taut, their strange magic burying him alive, a cairn to mark his passing. Slowly he felt the struggles and stress of all his dreams slipping free as he could not. The mare approaching from his peripheral was then just enough to push him over the edge. With a final loss of control, Thunder Hammer let go and Head Case took over.

\—D—/

Another unearthly roar of fury came from Thunder Hammer as Ember drew closer, and his efforts to escape redoubled. With strength she had thought impossible, he heaved to his hooves and stepped towards her. Despite an incredible amount of stone slowing him down, he somehow built momentum until he was fully charging her, his hammer forgotten on the ground behind him.

Wide eyed and taken entirely by surprise, Ember’s only chance for survival was to run across the brush covered island and through rock strewn caverns, until the roaring pile of rock and fury caught up with Ember.

A tackle sent them both sliding across sharp rocks and shrubs, and Ember kicked out to try and escape from him, but only earned a ping off his helmet. In retaliation a hoof reached out and grabbed hold of one of her hind legs, dragging her close enough for the other hoof to swing in and slam into her stomach.

Ember gasped, twisting to slam a hoof into his snout and managing just enough of a blow to loosen his grip. She rolled aside and struggled to stand but again the stallion shoved her over and this time pinned her to the ground.

With all of the sincerity and pent up craving that the poor mare could find in herself, she took in a deep breath and shouted.

“Please, Celestia, fuck me until I die, you sex-crazed monster!”

Disappointingly, he seemed lost to his rage, completely unhearing her cry, or mistaking it for a shout of pure fear. A swift kick to his groin proved just as useless, him being protected not only by his armor but now by a layer of magnetic stone. She struggled, barely avoiding a slamming hoof aimed for her head. Then another. Finally, a lucky break came her way when she slammed her own hoof against his neck, catching a jagged rock and pushing it into a small crevice on his armor. He cried out and pawed at it, cringing and rolling on the ground. It gave Ember another chance to jump up and sprint away.

Looking for any way to get away from the mad stallion, Ember went past her lookout hill and towards the floating platform, only to find that the bridge to it had moved. There was no way to get off this rock, and, inevitably, she was run up against an edge.

Stopping only to catch her breath for the briefest of moments, she leapt out into the void between islands with only water below her. Her grabbing tail shot out to latch onto the cliffside in an attempt to slow her descent, or bring herself closer to the rocky face, yet something heavy hit her from above and she began plunging toward the water.

Of course, she had been hit by Thunder Hammer, leaping off the edge of the island without any regard for his safety. They tumbled through the air as they accelerated faster and faster.

The stone giant of a stallion swung a hoof and hit her hard against the side of the neck, causing a gasp of pain and a coughing fit. Then her tail finally found purchase.

With a whipping motion, she was suddenly on top, just in time to hit the water going far too fast. The fountain of water they produced nearly touched the rocks above. Ember’s metal tail fell limp and released from the rock. It slithered into the water after the two fighting ponies.

The waves resumed their steady movement, lapping serenely against the hollow shores of the unreal land, as though their flow had been uninterrupted since the beginning of time. No animals scuttled along the sandy shores, leaving the only movement as the waves and a slight breeze rustling the trees that lined most of the rocks. Nopony would tell or likely ever would be able to tell what had made the stones in such a unique way. Sure it could be said simply to be chaos magic, but what had it been before then? What conjunction of stone and magnetic force could have inspired these impossible islands? Lost in time, nopony would ever know.

Then it changed, smaller, simpler, but a change nonetheless.

The red stain of blood tinted the water slowly like a sunset gracing a hillside with crimson, and from it the crimson Ember dragged herself out of the waves that held the same shade as her now mottled coat to lay coughing and retching on the sandy shores. The sea became brown and then faded until it was once again a deep teal.

Below the waves a body came to rest encrusted in magic stone and mundane steel. For a while, it leaked red tendrils, stretching out far and wide. The only evidence that anything living existed within the shell. But then the flow stopped. And it became, like so many others around it, another rocky outcropping below the sea. Anonymous and dead. Forever.

Back above, from one trembling red hoof, Ember dropped a six inch flathead screwdriver that still held the eviscerated remains of one mutilated eye. It was one of Thunder Hammer’s eyes. Somehow, as they had struggled in the waves, her body had known enough to grab it. To use it. She couldn’t bear to look at it. One of her own tools, like babies to her; it was tossed far into the rolling water, never to be seen again.

\—D—/

It seemed like hours passed before she could bear to eat more of the green grass she had found, and she still would not touch the water. She knew what lay down there now. No fish or coral, but a single corpse.

“Innocent of death” had been added to her list, in shaking script. Ember now knew that she didn’t want a lover that had suffered through what she had just experienced. This was a horrifying foray into the mind of the stallion she had killed. The reason for his steely gaze. She wondered idly if she now would have that same dead look to her eyes.

But now it was done, and she wandered the islands looking for the doorway to leave.

In a way she didn’t want to leave. This didn’t feel finished, it felt wrong. The island world seemed to agree with her, as time passed on without note. The sun stayed stuck above her, and her thirst eventually drove her to drink from the water, far from the scene of Thunder Hammer’s death.

Her thoughts wandered in odd directions. He had really been a royal guard, hadn’t he? She could probably go home and look him up at the library in Canterlot. A knight who had died a long, long time ago. The feeling of knowing that his death was likely never explained, that made her more contemplative.

Ember curled up beneath a tree after searching for quite a while, and she slept. In her dreams she imagined her mate. Her perfect mate. They would take her up in their magic and hold her close. Unable to move but cradled close, they would protect her yet do with her whatever they wanted. It would be perfect in her own twisted, sick little way. Ember knew that she was sick. A pony couldn’t beg to be pinned down and choked and not know there was something wrong with her.

Waking, Ember found herself napping within a short jog of a glowing doorway. She must have simply missed it in her sleep deprived state. Well, maybe being well rested would help her in her fight against her next opponent.

With a sigh and the squaring of her shoulders, Ember stepped through the doorway and out of the world of the lodestone locks.

I Was Not Prepared For This (Loss)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Grey Tiercel's fight? Decide who wins right here!

I Was Not Prepared For This (Loss)

I Was Not Prepared For This

Morning Glow waited in the empty room. As soon as she had closed the door behind her, it had just vanished. Of course, this was to be expected from Discord, but still. The annoyance ruffled her feathers.

After what could have been seconds or hours, a door appeared in front of her. “Finally,” she said. The door opened itself as she approached, a bright light preventing her from seeing what was on the other side. Having no other choice, she stepped through.

Blinking to clear away the spots, she heard the door close behind her. Presumably, it had now vanished. She could feel grass beneath her hooves, and a slight breeze ruffled her mane, so she was outside somewhere. Other than that, only some sort of distant cry was carried in on the wind.

The spots finally faded, and she could see where she was. Her jaw fell open as she took it all in.

It was a park, or at least, it had once been a park. The sky overhead was clouded, little rays of sunshine peeking through. Stands of trees grew alongside bushes and shrubs and flowers. Morning even swore she saw some corn growing off in the distance.

There was a wooden statue not far from her, depicting a charging earth pony. The thing made her shudder, as, despite the featureless eyes, it looked like it was staring right at her. She blinked again, and suddenly it was a gryphon, claws raised in an attack stance.

There were several pony shapes just beyond a grouping of trees, but they were too featureless for her to see very well. Their muted colors blended in amongst the brown trunks.

All of this paled before the most breathtaking sight in the park. Normally parks had hills, or little rises in the ground. This one had the ground sticking up at a ninety degree angle from the plot she was standing on. Even the trees were growing perpendicular to where she was.

“How the—? How does that work?” she wondered aloud. “I mean, as a pegasus I can just fly up there, but still. That shouldn’t even be possible.”

A voice that came from seemingly nowhere startled her. “Welcome, friends, to round one.”

“Discord,” she muttered.

“By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.”

There was a pause before the draconequus added, “Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

Morning looked around at the Arena. “Where in Tartarus is the center of this thing?” It was almost impossible to tell with how the ground just decided to change angles at random. “Whatever, I’ll deal with that when I win.”

She spread her wings, taking off from the ground. It would be easier to find whoever her opponent was from the air. The downside was she’d be easier to spot, unless she went and hid in the clouds.

Gaining speed with each flap of her wings, she shot straight up, bursting through a cloud. Carefully, she dug a hole in the cloud, looking down at the Arena. Even surveying from above was difficult with the way the park was. When the landscape changed at random angles and points, she could be surveying the ground, barely move her eyes, and be staring at what was essentially a wall.

From her perch, she could at least see a fair portion of the park. Trees and bushes were not the only things growing there. Patches of various crops could be seen interspersed amongst the foliage. As well, those creepy, changing statues dotted clearings, along with an occasional building. If this was once a public park, as the pathways and benches seemed to suggest, then it made sense for there to be restrooms and storage sheds around.

After half an hour, give or take as it was difficult to judge time in this place, she had seen no sign of her opponent. Sure there were these odd little ponies. To a one, their coats were some dark color like grey or brown. Some of them were wandering around, others were standing still. The first time she saw one, she’d thought it was her opponent and nearly swooped down on him, until she noticed its odd behavior.

Morning sighed, growing bored. This place was too large for her to sit in one area and hope whoever she was fighting would come to her. She’d need to be more proactive about finding her prey.

Digging herself out of the cloud, she dropped for a few seconds before spreading her wings and gliding down to the ground. Hopefully nopony had seen her in that brief moment. Looking around, she picked a direction in which she hadn’t been able to see from her perch and set off.

The trees here were quite odd. Rather than growing normally, they seemed to grow together and almost into one another, as if they were fused together, or perhaps phasing through one another. Quite often she would have to detour around a clump of trees. It was either that, or risk flying and being spotted, or taking the walkways and exposing herself.

It was only after a few minutes that she encountered her first obstacle. Just in front of her was a green wall made of grass. The ground had decided to change angles.

Testing with a hoof, she placed it on the wall. When she didn’t feel anything different, she slowly walked up the wall. With a wave of nausea, gravity switched for her, so now she was standing on the ground, the place she’d just been becoming a wall. After a moment, the disorientation passed and she continued on, looking for any sign of a pony.

At one point in her search, she came across tracks and followed them, only to find one of those weird ponies. As soon as it saw her, the thing unleashed a wail the likes of which Morning had never heard before. It was like several ponies were shouting at once, and her ears instantly pinned themselves to her head. The thing scampered off into the trees, still wailing.

When she could finally hear again, Morning swore aloud. That thing had just given away her position to anypony within earshot, which given how loud it was, was a significant portion of the park. It was time to move, quickly.

Spreading her wings, she flew across the clearing, trying to leave no tracks. If somepony was attracted by the noise and followed, hopefully they would follow the tracks left by that thing and miss hers.

Past the first few rows of trees, she landed, moving at a brisk trot to get away. She still wondered just what those things were. They had no cutie marks and their eyes lacked irises. They were too solid to be ghosts, but they certainly weren’t ponies anymore.

Ten minutes later, and she was no closer to finding an answer or her opponent. She had run into two more of those things, one of which jumped at her, trying to attack her. A quick flap of her wings got her away before anything happened.

Now she sat with her back to a tree, resting and planning her next move. It was getting to the point where she considered flying, even if it would give away her position. This was supposed to be a fight, not hide-and-seek.

“Ah, I finally found you,” a voice spoke from behind her, startling her. She leapt to her hooves, turning around.

A silvery looking unicorn stood there. He was wearing a coat of a dark grey color, and a black hat with an emerald band around it. His mane and tail were both blue. His muzzle sported a slight smirk. “Hmm, a pegasus. That explains why I lost your tracks a couple times.”

Morning held a hoof over her chest to quell her beating heart. This was bad. Nopony should be able to sneak up on her, not without her detecting them first. She had dropped her guard out of frustration. It was just her luck that her opponent decided to announce himself before striking out, else she would already be incapacitated.

“I take it that you are my opponent?” he asked.

She nodded. “You’re the first real pony I’ve seen here, so I assume so.”

They both stared at each other for a moment, before taking action. The unicorn’s horn lit up as he shot some spell at her, while she flared and pulsed her wings, sending herself backwards and kicking up a cloud of dust.

Several more spells came through the dust, followed by the unicorn himself. He had erected a shield in front of him to protect his eyes. Morning took the brief moment when he couldn’t see her to dart off to the side.

They were deep into a grove of the trees, so she couldn’t fly up and escape due to the branches above. Luckily, she could use the trees themselves to block and dodge his magic. So long as she kept at least one tree between them, she would be okay.

Her hooves left the ground as she flapped her wings a couple times. Twisting her body, she kicked off a tree trunk, changing her direction far faster and sharper than if she had been on the ground while still maintaining her momentum.

Swinging around another tree, she came at the unicorn from the side. He was still looking ahead, trying to spot her when she drove both her forehooves into his side. She picked him up, slamming him into the unyielding bark of a tree. Her hooves lashed out, delivering two quick strikes to his stomach before his horn lit up and something hit her chest, knocking her backwards.

She got to her hooves, determined to close the distance again. Against a magic user, she wanted to be close enough that it was difficult to hit her with a spell. Yet when she tried to take a step forwards, she nearly fell over.

Looking down, a steel blue chain of magic was strung between her forelegs. Grunting, she tried to break it apart, but only succeeded in not moving. That was when, in her distraction, a powerful blow landed on her chest, sending her flying back and slamming into a tree.

The breath left her lungs as she wheezed. It felt like a minotaur had just punched her. Trying to draw a breath only resulted in a fire in her chest. She was pretty sure at least one rib had cracked from the hit.

The unicorn was recovering, getting to his hooves. If she didn’t act fast, she’d be easy prey for him. Wincing, she pushed through the pain and managed to get to her hooves. Since her forelegs were bound, walking and running was out of the option. Instead, she took to the air.

Fighting this stallion head on would be suicidal. He was a competent fighter, able to concentrate through her blows to perform magic. Now was the time to run and formulate a plan.

One on one against a magic user like him, she would have to rely on speed. Close the distance, get in a strike or two, and then move away before he could retaliate. Either that, or she could surprise him.

As she weaved through the trees, using her tactic of kicking off the trunks, a smile formed on her face. There was always plan B, and, while she’d like to save that, it could be advantageous to unleash it early.

Sunlight shone up ahead, revealing a clearing. This one was fairly large, a grassy field with a fountain in the middle of it, several benches surrounding the water structure. A good place to have a fight.

Just before the clearing, Morning shot upwards and into a tree. She perched on a branch near the top. With luck, she’d put enough distance between herself and the ground-bound unicorn for her plan to work.

Concentrating, she changed. Green fire surrounded her as her yellow coat changed into hard, black chitin. Her mane vanished, replaced by little fins running down the back of her neck. Her long tail shortened, losing its orange and pink hues and turning black. Fangs grew from her mouth as her rose colored eyes became blue and lost their pupils. A horn sprouted from her head as her feathery wings became translucent.

She stretched, feeling her reshaped muscles and joints pop. Changing shape always made her sore as her body adjusted to its new form. Of course, the beauty of being in her natural form meant the transition was easier. Looking down, she noticed that the chain between her legs was gone.

When she was adjusted, she crouched down on the branch, peering through the leaves and waiting. The unicorn would be along shortly.

Sure enough, a minute later and he came trotting into view. He paused for a moment, eyes inspecting a tree where her hooves had dug into the bark, kicking off it. Briefly he glanced forward, setting off again. He was taking things slower, investigating and making sure to not make a mistake.

When he spotted the clearing, he stopped just inside the treeline, watching for her. He was smart and methodical, she’d give him that. He didn’t just rush out there, he took his time and made sure of things.

As he inspected the clearing, she made her move. Silently, she dropped off the branch. Moving her wings would cause a sort of buzzing sound, so she had to aim properly the first time.

Fortunately for her, the unicorn didn’t move, nor did he hear her dropping down. It was with satisfaction that she drove her full weight into his back. His legs collapsed under him as she pressed him into the ground. Her horn lit up, a green glow surrounding it as magic was channeled into it.

Her wings buzzing, she got off of him. As soon as she had stopped touching him, she unleashed her spell. An electric shock ran through his system. It was a spell designed to disrupt bodily systems, leaving the victim twitching on the ground and easy prey for a changeling.

She alighted on the grass, looking down at him as spasms wracked his body. “Time to end this,” she said.

Her hoof raised, prepared to smash his skull in. When she drove it down, it only ended up burying itself in the dirt. He had rolled out of the way just in time. She didn’t know how he could shake off her spell, but she wasn’t going to give him a chance to recover.

She fired several spells at him, from another shock to a kinetic bolt to a spell meant to immobilize an opponent. A shield sprang to life between them, her spells fizzling out on contact. The shield looked like it was only mono-directional, but that wasn’t something she could take advantage of just yet.

Laying on the ground behind his shield, the unicorn stared at her. An unspoken, temporary cease fire was in effect. Until he got up, all she could do was try and smash through his shield by overloading it. All she’d end up doing was wearing herself out.

Carefully, her opponent got back to his hooves. She noticed that he was still twitching from the effects of her spell. They regarded each other for a silent moment, analyzing and planning.

“Changeling.” His voice lacked emotion, as if he wasn’t surprised by her transformation.

“Unicorn,” she countered. “Got any other observations?”

“Well, since you have both wings and a horn, plus you can disguise yourself, I’ve gotta keep my eye on you.”

Morning stared at him. “That was a rhetorical question, smartass.”

“The name’s Grey, changeling.”

She smiled at him. “Grey, huh? That’s fitting, even if I like smartass better. You can call me Morning.” She pawed the ground with a hoof, her wings out and ready to use. “I’d say sorry for having to kill you, but I’m kinda not.”

She took a step towards the tree line, something Grey matched. “We going to do this?” he asked.

“It’s either that or we both walk away and the first one to starve loses. Frankly I’m not that patient.”

“Then let’s go.”

They were both almost at the tree line. Morning channeled magic into her horn, causing it to glow. Grey countered by bringing up his shield again.

Just before unleashing her spell, Morning closed her eyes. A bright flash illuminated the back of her eyelids and when she opened them, she still saw spots. Grey had suffered worse, having expected an attack of some kind, not a distraction. He reared back, eyes slammed closed.

Taking advantage of his state, she made a break for the trees. Unfortunately, her usual tactic of running away and then crafting another disguise wouldn’t work here. But she could certainly play hide and seek with him. The fact that he kept finding her meant he was skilled as a tracker. Hopefully, she could use that to her advantage.

Unfortunately, her plan hit a snag right off the bat in the form of a tree. She planted her hooves on the tree, intending to push off it and change her trajectory, same as always. Instead, the tree seemed to give a little and the next thing she knew, she was hurtling through the air away from the tree, having bounced off of it.

“Wha—!?” she squawked. Twisting her body, she found herself heading straight at the still stunned Grey. Her outburst had drawn his attention, his head turning towards her.

They crashed together, rolling across the ground in a flurry of limbs. Morning ended up underneath him, a position she would normally quite enjoy, being pinned beneath a stallion. This time, however, she wanted nothing more than to leave.

Her forehooves came up as he sat down, freeing his own forehooves. Her first strike was blocked, as was her second. His horn lit up as he blocked her, a bolt of magic connecting them momentarily.

She didn’t feel anything with his spell, but knew better than to think he had made a mistake. Instead, her only focus was on getting out from her dangerous position. Morning threw several strikes at his face and torso, all but one being blocked.

Frustrated, she jolted forward, her forehead cracking against the underside of his jaw. The headbutt made him falter enough to where she tossed him off. Quickly rolling to her hooves, she tried to spread her wings and take off again.

Her wings wouldn’t respond to her. They felt pinned. Looking back, she could see another blue chain keeping them tight against her body. This was not good.

Something hard and heavy slammed into her side, sending her skidding across the grass. She’d been distracted long enough for Grey to recover and hit her with something. It felt like another one of those spells that had cracked her rib. Whatever it was, she felt like a fully grown minotaur had just punched her in the side. If it weren’t for her chitin being as strong as it was, she was certain at least another rib or two would be out. As it was, the wind was knocked out of her.

She managed to get to her hooves, only to have another spell send her flying again. This time, the chitin cracked, pain flooding her system. Fortunately, she didn’t have far to skid, as she crashed into a bench. The weak wood turned to splinters, collapsing on top of her.

Green blood flowed out of her cracked chitin, another thin trail leaking from her jaw where she’d bit the inside of her lip. She groaned, trying to find the strength to get to her hooves. Pieces of bench sloughed off her as she shifted, finding her balance.

“No more of that,” she muttered, seeing Grey approaching, horn already lit up. If he wanted to play like that, she was willing to play, but on her terms. Standing as tall as she could, bruised and bleeding, she faced him.

Her wings were still trapped, leaving her maneuvering options limited. But she still had her wits about her. Without giving him a warning, she flung spells at him. Shocking spells, kinetic bolts, immobilizers, anything she could think of.

His shield sprung to life in front of him, intercepting the magic that hit him. Several spells flew past him, which he ignored. One of those spells hit the tree she’d bounced off earlier, reflecting and coming right back.

It caught him unawares, impacting his flank. The spell was designed to apply force to an object or being. He flew forwards, his speed suddenly increased.

Right into her waiting rear hooves. She’d spun around, delivering a devastating buck to his chest. The hit shook her, but she remained standing.

Grey, on the other hoof, took the full brunt of the attack. He stopped, pressed against her hooves and a look of shock on his face. Given what she’d felt, she figured they were even on the number of broken ribs now.

Letting her hooves fall back to the ground, she turned to look at him. She spotted a small ring around his horn. It was glowing, little wisps of smoke rising from it. Most likely it was some sort of amplifier for his magic, or maybe a specific spell.

As he lay there, gasping for air, she slid the ring off his horn. It was hot to the touch. Tossing it away, she picked up a long piece of the broken bench, raising it over her head. It was nothing fancy, but it would make a good club.

Morning looked at Grey for a moment, making sure to memorize his features as he lay in the grass. It would be good to remember this moment, when she took her first step towards being a hero and savior for her entire hive. If Discord was going to grant her one wish, she’d make sure that everypony got something out of it. If anything just to cease their constant suffering. Grey would be remembered as a pony who had, in a way, helped her out.

No sense letting him suffer longer. She brought the makeshift club down, fully intending to crush his head in.

The board was stopped with the sound of wood hitting wood. Grey had come to his senses enough to grasp another piece of the bench in his magic, blocking her strike. Pressing her club back, he shakily got to his hooves.

Grunting, she swung the board again. He blocked this hit as well, taking a step back and putting some distance between them. Both of their weapons floated in front of them, held in their respective magical fields.

The changeling jabbed with her board. One end was broken enough that it would sink into Grey’s flesh if she stabbed him with it. He deflected that hit, countering with a swipe of his own, forcing her to step to the side.

Fencing was definitely not something she was good at. Sure she’d seen it before, but seeing it and actually being able to replicate that were two entirely different things. It seemed her opponent was in the same boat. However, she had one advantage that he did not.

Morning was an infiltrator, a changeling who was tasked by the Queen to go out and seek love for the hive. To that end, she was very good at one thing: being able to read ponies. During a conversation, it was never what was said that matter, but what was unsaid, the body language that a pony presented. Everypony had tells, things that gave away what they truly wanted, what they were really thinking. She could read those tells.

As she concentrated, the world seemed to fade away, everything around her becoming unseen, until all she could see was the unicorn in front of her. She watched him, waiting for his tell.

There! His club moved right, but his eyes moved left. It was a feint, and one she didn’t fall for. Using her own club, she blocked his, countering with another jab. His weight shifted, indicating an overhead strike. Her own club raised up, catching his, which allowed her to bring her foreleg up and into his knee, sending him back a step.

However, no amount of reading his tells could translate into actual skill on her part. The two of them traded clumsy blows while Morning figured out what to do from here. She couldn’t keep this up, and neither could he. They were both hurting and finding it hard to breathe.

Testing her wings once again, she found them no longer bound. That was certainly a plus, something she would use to her advantage before he could bind them again. No better time than now.

Pulsing her wings, she leapt forward, swinging with her weapon. She knew that he was aiming at her, but took a calculated risk to take the hit. Her board hit his shoulder while his slammed into her head. The hit was jarring, but she was too committed to her path to be swayed.

Morning slammed into Grey, knocking him off his hooves. She didn’t hold onto him, using her momentum to continue flying away. Her hooves touched the grass only long enough to spring off, circling around him as several magic spells flew past her.

She flew around him before making a sudden turn and once more flying right at him. Twisting her body around, she managed to barely dodge his spell and slam into him again. Her forehooves dug into his chest, forcing him to cough up a glob of blood onto her back.

The impact bowled him over. Morning took the opportunity to drag him along through the dirt. She let him go, coming to a stop and spinning around. It was time to end this.

Her hooves lashed out, kicking him while he was down. Normally such tactics would be frowned upon, but this was life or death, kill or be killed. Any way she could incapacitate him, she would. He tried to block her but was unable to do so, until he managed to bring his shield to life.

A hoof struck the shield, bouncing off. Growling, she skirted around the magical barrier. That gave him enough time to get his bearings and prepare for her.

Her first forehoof strike was deflected, her second blocked. Once more, the world seemed to fade out until it was just him. He threw several punches at her, which she blocked and dodged. Spinning in place, she bucked at him, only getting in a glancing blow as he jumped backwards.

Lunging at him, she grabbed onto his foreleg, pulling him off balance. With a grunt that sounded more like a wheeze, she tossed him over her shoulder. This time, she straddled him, taking control.

Her forehooves managed several strikes to his face, each one deforming his jaw. Already his right eye was swelling shut. The unicorn got his back hooves under her, launching her off of him.

Her wings flared, controlling her descent. She buzzed down at him, only for her forehooves to dig furrows into the dirt as he rolled away. Something tugged on her tail, tossing her to the ground.

The impact against her already weakened ribs sent a wave of pain coursing through her. Based on how it felt, one of her cracked ribs had just broken, or shattered. Every breath felt like a knife being plunged into her lung. Hopefully, she wasn’t bleeding internally.

Truly wheezing now, she rolled aside, a hoof coming down where her head just was. Everything in her hurt. One way or another, this fight would be over soon.

No sooner had she gotten to her hooves did she feel something impact her flank. The chitin there cracked, more of her blood staining the grass, almost blending in. Little drops of green and red permeated the battlefield.

She stumbled forward, turning that into momentum to race away. The fountain stood just in front of her; she could use that to buy her a couple of seconds.

Without a thought, she jumped into it. The water inside had long since dried up, leaving the concrete edifice barren. All she needed was a moment to hide.

As soon as her hooves touched the inside, she leapt backwards, pressing her back against the interior wall. Seconds later, Grey came flying in after her. He had his shield up and in front of him, ready for her.

However, she was behind him as he landed, allowing her to charge up her horn and send a flurry of spells at him. The first two struck before his shield vanished from one place, popping up behind him.

Already the spells had done their job. He was pushed forwards, losing his balance and scraping along the concrete floor as little arcs of magical electricity coursed around him. Impressively, he managed to maintain his shield for a brief moment before it sputtered and vanished.

Morning gave him no time to recover, leaping on him and grabbing his head in her hooves. She picked it up, slamming it into the concrete several times. Grey made a few feeble attempts to knock her off, but she was too determined to let it affect her.

Even when he stopped moving, she kept picking his head up and forcing it into the ground. Spatters of blood surrounded him like a halo, but still she continued. His attacks ceased, but still she pressed on.

Over and over she slammed his head down. Over and over she persisted. Only when her hooves and chitin were liberally splashed with his blood did she stop.

He wasn’t moving, wasn’t even breathing. His skull was cracked open, blood draining from his body. Grey the unicorn was dead.

Morning sat down, her hooves shaking too much for her to stand. Adrenaline was still coursing through her body, but pain was overtaking it. Grey was a worthy opponent and a tough fight. She knew how to fight, all Infiltrators in her hive did, but she’d never had to actually use her skills in a situation like this. It was obvious she still had a lot to learn.

A loud ding spread across the twisted park, and a column of light speared outwards. To her, it looked like it was running overhead. “That must be the door.” She was on the wrong plot of ground.

Grunting in pain, she left his body where it was. Discord would do something with it, or he wouldn’t. Her part was done. She buzzed her wings, managing an unsteady flight.

When she got to the area where the ground shifted directions, she landed. Hobbling forward, she gingerly stuck a hoof on the “wall” in front of her. It stayed there. The feeling of being between two different gravity zones was awkward and she walked up the wall, now the ground, as fast as possible.

Taking wing again, she headed for the shaft of light. Sure enough, it marked a simple wooden door.

Without hesitating, she opened the door and walked through it. Hopefully, she would be allowed time to rest and heal before the next fight. With one fight already survived, she was ready for whatever she would face next.

Behind Those Blue Eyes (Win)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Morning Glow's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Behind Those Blue Eyes (Win)

Behind Those Blue Eyes

Grey whistled a half-formed tune as he waited for something, anything, to happen. After Discord’s instructions, he had found himself in a small room, seemingly with no exit. And quickly no entrance either, it having magically disappeared behind him.

He found he wasn’t impressed with the Chaos Lord so far. Yes, it was a good trick, Discord pulling ponies and whatnot from time, but still—this was all rather cliche. Mysterious rooms, darkness and a lack of information. Threats and promises.

Promises… Grudgingly, he admitted that part was impressive. Anything my heart desires… Could it be true? He shook his head, dislodging his hat. Of course it was. He had read the histories, about what Discord could do. About what he did not a decade and a half ago.

Idly, he wondered where the draconequus was in his time, but discarded it as unimportant information. Instead, he wracked his brain, trying to squeeze whatever details he could get about the other competitors. He hadn’t had much time to observe, but then, one hardly ever did.

He remembered a mix of ponies, griffons, changelings, and even a dragon. That last was especially locked into his mind; he had never seen a dragon before. Nor changelings. Manehattan had a lot of problems, but no changelings. At least to his knowledge. I guess part of the point is we’re not supposed to know about it.

Most had seemed young, athletic and likely skilled. A few were clearly warriors. Grey worried some on that. He had lived through more scraps in his thirty-some-odd years than many would in their entire life, but he was hardly battle trained. This would test him, he knew. To his limits.

Idly, he scratched at his nose, boredom setting in. He had hoped his eyes would adjust to the darkness, but the lack of change told him what he had suspected to begin with—there was literally no light to adjust to. Grey was in a tiny, stone box. And would be until Discord was ready.

He could light his horn, he realized, but what would be the point? And while it didn’t take much, even his light spell would be a drain on his reserves. If this was to be a fight to the death, he would need every last drop. Soldier or warrior he might not have been but that, at least, was all too familiar. He was ready. He didn’t like it, but for what he might win, he would try his damndest.

As if on cue, a thin outline appeared before him. It was bright and formed an arch. Another line of light split it down the middle, forming two sizeable doors. They opened, spilling in bright sunshine which nearly blinded Grey before he smartened up and closed his eyes. He couldn’t tell what was out there, but stepped forward slowly, his mind focused to generate a shield as fast as thought if needed.

The flat, stale air of his confinement was replaced with a fresh, earthy-scented breeze, and the sunlight warmed his body, almost to a point of regret for his long coat. Carefully, he opened one eye, letting it adjust, then the other.

A loud whistle escaped his lips. He was impressed now. Damn impressed.

The door behind him closed, but went unnoticed as Grey’s attention was taken by the sight before him. For a moment, his brain refused to believe what his eyes were seeing. Slowly, the reality of the place took hold, while at the same time seeming so impossible.

At first glance, it looked like one of the nicest parks Grey had ever seen. And Manehattan’s Central Park was a very nice park. The investigator had never seen so much green. A simple, well-kept cobblestone path twisted this way and that. Next to it sat the occasional bench and, at regular intervals, old-style lantern posts stood, their flames bright despite the sunlight. Grey suspected they were magically designed to never burn out.

Plant life was scattered, healthy and thick. From blooming flowers to towering trees, single bushes to thick groves of fruit trees and even a field of carrots. It bordered in places on turning into a forest. Where it passed that border, it shattered it and didn’t look back. Some places the trees grew so thick that they looked impenetrable.

This was helped by the fact that, in most places, other trees and plants were growing into them. Sideways. Or even from the sky. Or, rather, not from the sky, as the ground seemed to have curved upwards and over and…

Grey closed his eyes and shook his head. He was getting vertigo thinking about it. More slowly, he looked again. It was baffling. In places he could see where the land sloped up—or sometimes just bent at a straight right angle. But he could see plenty of sky. It was mostly clear, with just a few clouds.

Beyond the strange geography, it was all very pleasant.

“Welcome, friends, to round one,” boomed a loud voice from the sky suddenly.

Snapping to attention, Grey looked up quickly before realizing that it was simply Discord’s disembodied voice. That’s quite a trick, he thought, gritting his teeth. What do you want now?

“By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.”

There was a pause before the draconequus added, “Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

Silence boomed after the last word, slowly being replaced by the gentle sound of rustling plantlife and the gentle breeze. Beyond that, nothing else seemed different.

The investigator was beginning to relax despite the strange surroundings when suddenly he found himself face down in the grass. Quickly he scrambled to his hooves, launching him away from...something. A terrible wailing sound filled his ears, sending chills down his spine. The surprise attack and the unnatural noise sent his nerves into overtime and he readied a Slug spell—his standard kinetic energy blast designed to knock out even the hardiest brutes—and took aim. Grey lowered his head, pointing his glowing horn at his attacker.

Whoever you are, prepare to…what?

Grey’s focus interrupted, the deep blue light dissipated as quickly as it had appeared. There, cowering on the ground, was what appeared to be a pony—but unlike any pony Grey had ever seen before. Its coat was a flat, ashen black. The...thing, for Grey could not keep calling it a pony, was curled in on itself, allowing him to see that it had no cutie mark. He couldn’t be certain, but he thought he saw two distinctive nubs just behind the shoulder blades. Had it had wings?

One step at a time, Grey retreated, always keeping his focus. The thing seemed to be terrified, with no interest in anything except its own safety, let alone attacking him. Certainly Grey didn’t feel it to be his opponent. But still, one couldn’t be too careful.

Quickly, he looked behind him. He was coming up to a thick stand of trees. That would do.

“So, whatever-you-are,” he said evenly, “you just stay right there, and we won’t have any trouble, alright?”

The pony-thing looked at Grey with dull, white eyes. At first he thought they were pupilless, but he saw them as faint outlines against the eye itself. They disturbed Grey somewhat as, despite the thing’s seeming animal intelligence, he could have sworn he saw a deeper cunning in them. When those eyes caught Grey’s own, the thing yelped and ducked again.

Alright, he thought to himself. I guess that’s good enough.

Grey felt the rough scratch of tree bark against his flank, signaling he had reached the corner. Letting out a slow breath, he turned and began rounding it. With one last glance back to make sure the pony-thing was still where it should be, he shook the disturbing thoughts away and went to a trot.

He needed to get this over with. And fast.

At least my opponent has to deal with all this craziness, too, he consoled himself. Small comfort, knowing we’re both probably uneasy in this place. Whoever gets the jump first…

Grey let that thought trail off as he turned off the cobblestoned path. He’d deal with the backlash of his actions later. The goal was what mattered. If that goal cost him a few more nightmares, a few more drunken nights, then that was well worth it.

The investigator shrugged his shoulders uncomfortably. They itched, making him feel like he was being watched. And that made him feel like he was being silently weighed and measured.

He kicked up a few torn blades of grass as he picked up speed, trying to shake off the invisible watchers as his own inner voices berated him.

\—D—/

Morning Glow watched the unicorn curiously as he began running through the thicker vegetation off the path. Quietly, she fluttered above and below branches, dodging the protruding plantlife that grew from the ground to her sides in places. In all her life, she had never heard of such a place as this. Still, it was little challenge to her observant eyes.

Silently, she cursed the heavy vegetation and tree cover. It wasn’t allowing her to get a good look at her opponent, and that made the prospect of fighting him less than savory. While she had learned some about him already, she still wanted more information. That was key. With the right information, she knew she could be victorious.

Without it… Well, that hardly bore thinking about.

After a few minutes, she alighted on a particularly thick branch—Or is it a trunk?—and watched as the unicorn had stopped, hiding himself amongst what seemed to be a shrub of some sort. She turned her attention to where he was looking and saw why he had hesitated.

More of those...shells, she thought, shivering despite herself. They gave her the willies. Something about them was just wrong, and she had avoided them since arriving, though not without observing and learning what she could about them. That information had already come in handy, even if it disturbed her.

She absentmindedly brought a wing to her muzzle and preened. It helped her focus. The unicorn was waiting for a large group of the shells to pass by. They walked slowly, taking a meandering, halting path. Though they were together, still they seemed nervous of one another, all but fleeing in terror. Every now and then, one would stop, nibble a little grass, or chomp a flower, or even bite at a low hanging fruit. So they were mortal creatures, or at least thought they were, despite their somewhat unnatural attributes.

It suddenly occurred to her what a good opportunity this was. The unicorn’s attention was completely on the shells. She wasn’t sure why—they were harmless. Still, she would use it to her own advantage.

She fell from the branch, carefully catching herself just before she hit the ground. Landing silently, she approached him from behind. Mentally she laughed. He had no idea, and that was the point. That was the power of her kind.

The strength of a changeling, to strike when least expected.

She let her disguise fall as she buzzed forward, tackling him from behind. As quickly as she could, she pounded her hooves into him. Changelings were not the strongest, but neither were unicorns the toughest. She backed this up with her fangs, biting and scratching. They tumbled forward, scattering the shells, and wrestling as they rolled on the ground. Finally, Morning Glow, or rather, changeling 421, was able to get a good grip on the struggling unicorn.

Her legs tight around his chest, she sank her fangs in deep, the tang of metal telling her she had struck a bloody wound. She bit down harder and then with all her might pulled and ripped back. The unicorn let out a cry, half pain and half frustration. Finally, he recovered from the surprise attack and grabbed her in his magic and threw her off.

She hit the ground hard, losing her wind, and then buzzed forward just in time to miss the unicorn’s magical strike. He launched another which did hit her back leg. Thankfully, he seemed to be firing kinetic energy blasts, rather than pure magic. The force of the blast pushed her to the right, sending her flight pattern wild. She believed it might’ve cracked her carapace some, but beyond that she kept flying, desperate to put distance between the two of them.

\—D—/

As fast as he could, Grey got back to his hooves and scrambled after the creature. Thankfully, he seemed mostly OK. It had done plenty of damage, but... No, it had done worse—it had got the drop on him. It fluttered ahead, and he cursed. It was too fast for him to waste another shot, not to mention it was gaining ground. They were headed uphill, which slowed the ground-bound unicorn. It hovered up and over the rise, vanishing from sight. Charging, Grey pushed his hooves harder, faster. His legs burned some, the unicorn more used to the flat streets of the city than uneven natural ground.

Finally, he made it to the top. Grey stopped and glared angrily, the bruises and bites stinging smartly. Damn! Lost it!

Before him was another strange scene, something that troubled his subconscious mind, though he was too angry to take much note of it. Before him was a clearing, clearly manufactured as it was defined within a square box of cobblestone path. The few trees and plants here were arranged. It was what covered the rest of the grounds that surprised Grey.

They appeared to be statues, but they were some of the most life-like ones Grey had ever seen. Then again, he had never seen wooden statues before. Perhaps that’s what helped their lifelike quality. Various species—not all pony—were represented and in a plethora of poses. Some were in noble, standard-statuesque stances, while others stood more actively, mouths agape in eternal cries, some of victory, some of anguish.

Of the changeling, there was no sign.

Can it… Could it possibly look like one of those? he mused, his temper beginning to cool. Grey had never dealt with changelings before. One heard stories of changelings in Manehattan, but there had never been any proof. Most officials agreed the city, despite its high pony population, was a poor place for the species.

Grey had read up on them, mostly out of curiosity, while doing research on magic. Their copy spell was often talked about, but mostly in theory. Certainly nopony had ever been able to reproduce it for themselves. So all he had was conjecture, with little fact.

Still—better safe than sorry, right?

His horn glowed bright as he shouted, “Come out, you bastard!” Tilting his head down, he launched a Slug at the nearest statue. It collided and the wooden head, along with a fair bit of its torso, exploded into splinters. All in all, it was a satisfying effect, though Grey knew it was a risky waste of his energy. He began walking, slowly going in amongst the statues, wondering which, if any, were his opponent in disguise.

“I’ve dealt with a lot of lowlifes in my time, but who would have guessed my first changeling would take the cake!” He concentrated again and another statue was torn in half, its two pieces flying several feet from the blast. “But, credit where credit is due, I let my guard down.” More concentration, more splinters. “I won’t do that again.”

Grey fired off two more Slugs, then stopped his approach. He had stopped roughly in the middle of the clearing. Circling, Grey breathed in heavily. He had to slow down. The Slug spell was simple, but energy hefty, and he was already feeling the fatigue of magic usage. If he took a moment to rest, he figured he would be alright. Still, that would set a poor image to his opponent, who he wanted kept intimidated.

Grey blinked. Or did he? He charged up another Slug, adding a little extra oomph to it. Giving a great, frustrated yell, he launched it into another statue, which exploded in its entirety. Then he sank to his knees, breathing heavy.

\—D—/

421 watched the unicorn, trying to calm her beating heart. Stupid! she chided. You knew it was too soon…

Still, it had been a good opportunity. And she had manage to do some damage. Plus, now she saw more of what he was capable of. As an infiltrator, she was no expert on particularly aggressive spells, but between the anger she could sense from him and the effect his blasts were having on the statues, she knew his blasts far out-powered anything a changeling could do.

She wondered what else he was capable of? If he kept blowing up statues, she was going to find out sooner than she wanted. While he hadn’t been close yet, it was only a matter of time. She would have to do something. Distract him somehow so she could escape again, find a better place for an ambush.

She waited and watched him—he seemed to have tired himself out, but she could see the signs. While his magic had drained him some, he was faking. It was clear as day to her. She saw how his eyes stayed sharp, moving every which way, just waiting for her to strike.

Well, she thought, two can play at this game!

421 carefully readied her magic, without activating it. It would take just a thought, and her blast would fire. She kept her body completely still, as the statue she was copying, her eyes beginning to water from being open for so long. But still she watched his own. Until… He looked away.

She launched a blast to his far right, hitting a statute, which caught his attention. Right away, he blasted it with his own spell. But she was already going again. She moved, taking a new position opposite of her distraction, and then fired several blasts at him.

She was rewarded by his yelp as her blasts hit his side and rear flank, singing the fur and knocking him down. She fired again, but this time he was ready—a convex shield of glowing blue force popped up and absorbed her blast. She launched a couple more, but they too were easily blocked as the unicorn rose to his hooves.

Seeing she was more than outmatched magically, she ran. She knew exactly where she needed to get to—and with her wings and his increasing fatigue, she knew she’d have no problems getting there.

The clearing was open, with only a few trees and bushes. But on the far side of it was a thick stand of very thin trees growing into one another from all directions, thick enough to form a wall. She reached the obstacle then, with her quick eyes, she found a path through, squeezing between trunks and going up and down, until she reached the other side. She shot some branches out of the next tree, making it look like something had passed through, then she morphed into a facsimile of one of the shells.

Throwing herself down on the ground, she waited and readied herself. This would be the performance of a lifetime.

After a moment, she heard the sound of more wood being blasted apart as the unicorn followed her through the trees the only way he could: by blasting his way through, being too big to squeeze through like she could. Finally, a shower of splinters rained around her as he made it all the way through.

The unicorn stopped, facing her. She curled into herself as she did earlier, getting the shakes of fear just right, whining just so. It annoyed her that she could not catch the ethereal moan the shells produced, but she felt she got close. 421 then threw on the cherry—quickly she glanced at him. She could feel the expert emotion in her eyes, the sense of helplessness and patheticness that would tug at his heartstrings and make him ignore her. Just another victim, nothing to see here.

He stopped, his eyes looking at her. Looking at her. No...he...he couldn’t! she thought, then dismissed. It was just her imagination. Of course he couldn’t. She was a master.

“My name is Grey Tiercel,” he announced quietly. Quiet enough that only she could hear. “You’re very good. In the city, I’d have a real problem with it. But you’ve missed a detail that I just noticed—without a mirror I can see why you would. But.”

Suddenly her world flashed into pain as he shot a blast of magic at her. It clipped her side—he had aimed off on purpose, she was certain—and pushed her a good ten feet. She blinked, her senses overloaded. When her vision cleared, she saw him standing over her, a grim darkness in his eyes that made her legs go soft, just for a moment.

“Their eyes,” he declared, “don’t have pupils.”

\—D—/

Grey saw his announcement sink in and his heart sank with it; its eyes burned anger and disbelief. It was a pitiful sight. Suddenly, with a flash of green light, the pony-thing became a changeling. Black armored carapace, blue eyes, green, soft flesh, silky wings and a horn. He had never seen one in his life before, but this matched their description to a T.

He let out a roar and launched a Slug spell, but was too slow. Already, the changeling, with the buzz of its wings, had shot off and was flying as fast as it could away.

“No you don’t!” Grey cried, shooting his Shackle spell, missing by a wide margin. “Damn it, get back here!” Throwing himself into a gallop, he raced after his opponent who was flying for all it was worth. Grey suspected that, had it really been a pegasus, it would have escaped. But changelings seemed to be more limited in their flight speed.

Then it took a nosedive straight down—and vanished. Grey almost stopped, but caught himself and kept going. He knew what had happened.

If the ground can angle straight up in some places, then—aha!

He came to the edge where the ground turned on a right angle straight down. Carefully, Grey looked over. The changeling had shifted with the gravity and was still flying. It seemed the sudden shift had thrown it for a moment, but it was quickly getting used to it. It raced, its wings a blur, for the next turn which would allow it to continue on away from Grey.

An idea occurred to Grey then, although he wasn’t sure if it would work. Carefully, he took aim—it was the longest distance he had ever attempted the spell, and he wasn’t sure it would work. Just in case, he supercharged it, throwing in way more energy than he normally would. Timing it just right, he launched the spell.

His shackle attached to the changeling by its right wing. The other end attached to a nearby branch as it flew by. Immediately the changeling was no longer flying, but falling, as its right wing sheared off, connected to the branch by Grey’s magical chain.

Despite the change in gravity, the changeling had enough momentum to continue—to Grey’s eyes—forward, right until the ground shifted at a right angle again. The direction of the gravity then became, in comparison to Grey, down. His opponent landed with a thump, but seemed mostly alright, aside from the missing wing. Soon, after two failed attempts at flight, it started running instead.

Now for the part I’m not sure of… Grey thought to himself as he took a few steps back. He readied his magic again, this time preparing his Shield spell. Then, with a deep breath, he ran as fast as he could and jumped over the edge.

He had no idea if his plan would work, but Grey had hoped that, to a degree, the gravity might hold on his original orientation. For the first couple seconds he felt himself turning, going down, reorienting to the ninety degree shift in the land. He cursed, thinking his plan had failed. Then it stopped and he continued to sail forward.

Then he began to fall.

This was where it got tricky. He looked down, seeing the changeling running parallel to him several feet down. He took aim as best he could, hoping he had judged right. And he activated his shield, aiming it below him.

He fell and fell and hoped. And, at last, he landed—

—right on the changeling’s rear legs which crunched under Grey’s shield and the force of the fall. Grey then felt the shield hit ground as he bounced off it and away from his opponent. His heart beating quickly and the adrenaline in his system flowing, he stood and readied a quick Slug, preparing for the counterattack.

He let the spell go when he saw there was no need.

“I’m sorry,” was all Grey could say. He felt foolish saying even that. But what else could he offer? What words were there for what he had done?

The changeling was crawling, letting out a low, whimpering hiss with every slide forward. Its left wing buzzed frantically, the right stump of the other trying to match and failing to provide any lift without its delicate membrane. It left a sickly green ichor trail, its back legs cracked and leaking, useless and no doubt paining the creature greatly.

Grey picked up his hat and tucked it snugly on his head. His features were dark, his face low. He knew of what changelings were capable of. What this one likely would wish for had it won. But even still, he hated it. Every time he had killed somepony, even though it had been his life or theirs. Even when they deserved it.

When Grey had ‘retired’ from the Manehattan Police Department, he had left with him a lot of his youthful idealisms. The unicorn had grown up with and worked within what he now recognized was a corrupt system. Not absolute, but close enough. With that loss had gone much of his traditional ideas of Right and Wrong, of the Law.

Despite his reservations, Grey knew that Right often did not correlate with Law. While he didn’t go out of his way to break it, the investigator had walked a fine line on more than one occasion. To do what was needed oftentimes required him to work not just outside the establishment as he did but to even work against it. And he had accepted that.

But it had, on times, been a very dark path. Ponies had died at his hooves. But only when there had been no other choice. Despite his anger towards them, Grey much preferred to turn criminals over to the MPD. With an independent like him—who, ironically enough, was still legally sanctioned by the city via his investigator’s license—working in the cracks that the MPD never touched, crimes were solved and criminals stopped. And that’s all that mattered. That the job was done.

Grey walked in front of the wounded changeling, knowing it would likely die from its wounds within a few minutes. It crawled closer and, with a pained cry, lit its horn and fired a magical burst at him. Grey’s shield activated easily, dispelling the pitifully weak blast. Its eyes burned like blue fire, the creature’s anger radiating off it. Or so Grey thought he could sense. Behind those blue eyes, Grey knew was not only the anger of the defeated, but the sorrow of something lost. The investigator wondered, truly, what the changeling would have wished for.

“I’m sorry,” he said again. “But whatever you were fighting for? I’m fighting for something just as important. I’d say it isn’t personal…” He paused, his eyes burning, cursing Discord for the whole damned tournament. Then he added, “But unfortunately, it’s very personal.”

Grey’s horn burned brightly as he changed his focus from defense to attack, building up a large amount of magic which he channeled into a Slug, fired point blank at his opponent’s hissing face. Just before he fired the spell, he felt several impacts against his chest as the changeling rapid fired to try and stop him. But, in its death throes, it had no energy to put behind them. Grey would have more bruises, but little else.

While Grey’s spell, focused and overpowered and aimed at so close, had more than enough.

There was a sickening crunch, and Grey was splashed with ichor, as the changeling’s body was sent flying, its limbs sprawling, unresisting and dead. The strange geography took hold, turning its horizontal movement to vertical as the land sharply rose up. The new gravity pulled, and the body landed in a thankfully unrecognizable heap amongst flowers and hedgerows.

Without warning, rain began to fall in thick drops from the sky. However, in an area around Grey, it was clear and dry. Turning from his defeated foe, the unicorn thanked Celestia for small favors as he wondered what new terror might be coming. His reserves were low, and it was showing. His breathing was somewhat labored, and the various cuts and scrapes and bruises the changeling had given him made him even more weary. The deeper bites on his neck especially hurt, and now that he had a moment he could feel the matted fur where he had been bleeding. Close to too much.

Grey had had worse, but he knew his own body—he was in no shape to fight again.

Still, as the rain fell, nothing appeared to be coming. Grey wondered—hadn’t he been victorious? Where, then, was the exit?

I swear, Discord, if you’ve doublecrossed me… Wait, what’s…?

Grey approached the wall of rain, enjoying the mist that began spraying him. It was curious, but it almost seemed as if there… There was. A path, within the rain. Carefully, Grey approached the dry corridor. He looked up and found he had no idea where the rain was coming from.

Discord, his thoughts answered his wonderings.

Grey removed his hat and coat and, trying to stay as dry as he could, washed the dirt and life-giving fluids off his coat. His red blood and the changeling’s green ichor mixed to form a murky, dark colour that reflected his mood. Once he was reasonably clean, he redressed and began walking the dry path.

It ran for quite a while, eventually rejoining the cobblestoned path that seemed to be leading Grey away from the chaos and into a more ordered land. Less and less was the plantlife a maddening, insane growth and more like the image of a park that was Grey’s first impression. The land remained flat and even, no longer turning this way and that.

Most oddly, the unicorn noted, was the fact that the sky was darkening as he walked further. The sky went from bright blue with scattered clouds, to overcast, then darkened red and the fluffy pinks of near-sunset. Finally, the somber tones of night—speckled with brilliant stars—appeared overhead and Grey was walking to a rainbowed horizon line. Even that was soon overcome by the violet night. All the while, the rain kept on.

Finally, the corridor led to an archway which, in the flickering magical torchlight of the lamps, looked both cryptic and inviting. It was a simple whitewashed wooden frame covered in twisting roses of several colours. But the sputtering light that passed through it turned the soft white of the wood to the hard white of clean bone, the roses becoming splotches of blood and pustules of decay.

Through the arch was nothing. Empty space. Looking at it from this side, Grey could see the park stretching on and on until it became a twisted mess yet again.

He stopped, just before the entrance. His mind raced, thinking on the events of the past few hours. Being summoned by Discord, thrown into a life or death tournament for his heart’s desire. Forced to endure this maddening landscape; forced to kill a soul he had never met before. He thought of the draconequus now and his disembodied voice from earlier—the Chaos lord must have been watching the whole thing. Even Grey at that very moment, so as to direct him to the exit.

Cocking his hat, Grey looked up, his face split in a weary grin that didn’t quite touch his eyes.

“I just want you to know, Discord,” he said quietly, “that I’ll play your game better than you could ever dream. So get your kicks in now, while you can.” His aura enveloped his hat and tugged it back down as he stepped through the arch, disappearing as he passed its threshold until nothing was left.

Nothing but his voice, tired, pained, but determined. “‘Cause when I win, you’re next in line.”

Daughter of Mnemosyne (Loss)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Arika's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Daughter of Mnemosyne (Loss)

Daughter of Mnemosyne

She stood amid a world of shattered beauty.

A world of broken black spires and jagged, crumbling towers—their original purpose long lost, but now draped with long, glittering icicles of dark glass. Surrounding her on all sides was a seemingly endless field of sickly green, pockmarked with grey craters—as if the landscape itself was diseased and slowly unravelling. Above, the blue sky was darkened by thin strips of unnaturally twisted clouds which glowed a poisonous purple and swayed with a haunted life of their own.

“It’s sooooo pretty!” Hoax shouted, hopping about in a circle as she surveyed the landscape. The lithe, grey unicorn paused to blow a strand of bright red hair from her face, only for a brief breeze to ruffle her mane further. She scrunched up her nose and snorted in annoyance, but her attention was quickly drawn back to the scenery, specifically the long grey path that wound its way through the fields before her.

“Well lookit that! I didn’t expect the Master of Chaos to make this so easy!” she said as she skipped down the path.

\—D—/

“I suppose I shouldn’t have expected Discord to make this easy,” Arika conceded to herself with a gruff, but not unfeminine snort. To a pony, it would have sounded rough and typically griffon-like. But there was something special about this particular griffon. It wasn’t the armor, which she wore as if it were a second skin, nor was it the katana at her side, sheathed in a well-worn dark brown scabbard that had seen many battles.

It was the icy flame of determination in her eyes. This was a griffon on the hunt.

She scanned the terrain, eyes ready to catch even the slightest whisper of movement, but her stoic watch was met only with a distant, somewhat ominous rumble of thunder. She clicked her beak in annoyance. Too many hiding places below—her plan to stay high and wait for a moment to strike was already falling apart, much like the strange world she now found herself in. After a moment's contemplation, she spread her wings wide and leaped from her perch with the grace only experience could teach.

Quickly and silently, Arika glided to the ground. She landed gently, only for the ground to crunch in protest. The griffon looked down, bemused, to see that the withering grass was not grass at all, but glass.

She muttered a curse under her breath, but was relieved that she had cut neither her talons nor her paws. A pair of flaps from her muscled wings carefully lifted her back into the air and over to a stony path nearby. With no sign of her foe and no better options presenting themselves, she followed it.

She met little in the way of obstacles, though the path was littered in places with broken bits of glass. It led her to a long, shallow ravine littered with boulders and piles of yet more shattered glass. Beyond that, she could see a rolling forest of tightly-spaced obsidian spires reaching up for the sky.

She carefully regarded the tunnel-like ravine that beckoned her. The walls were not made from rock, but the same polished obsidian as the spires. The opening to the fissure felt uncomfortably like a gaping maw—clumps of crystalline glass, colorful but dangerously sharp, protruded from the black walls like teeth waiting to devour any unsuspecting mortals foolish enough to enter.

“What was it father always said?” she muttered. “Fortune favors the brave and the foolish?”

She walked forward into the canyon, stepping carefully to avoid making unnecessary noise. About halfway to the other side, a prickle crept up the back of her skull—a shiver that ruffled her feathers.

Her instincts had never failed her before. She was being watched.

With the speed and grace of a dancer, she spun on her hind legs and drew her blade, her keen eyes focusing on a tangle of opaque grassroots—glassroots?—half hidden in the grey soil. More specifically, the slight movement of the shadow just behind it.

Silently, she crept forward, but as she neared the shadow launched itself into the air, bounding over the jagged wreckage with a shocking, awful wail. Arika froze. Like a spectral demon from her deepest nightmares, the creature crashed down on her with the force of a freight train, dragging her to the ground. The pony-sized creature attacked her with the madness of a rabid dog, gnashing and wailing while attempting to bite through her armor. She had no room to maneuver her sword, but once she recovered from her initial surprise and connected her fist with its face, it let out a shocked screech and leaped up and away from her. The shadow stumbled backwards, slamming into the wall of the ravine and slipping to the ground with a pathetic mewl of pain.

Now that she could finally look at the creature that had assaulted her, she wished she hadn’t.

It was roughly equine, in a manner of speaking. Wrapped in a shroud of dark material, its featureless face gave way to two cavernous holes with eyes set so deep and so immersed in wrinkles that it resembled a newborn rat. Its gaping maw revealed yellow teeth growing from withered, diseased gums. The creature was hairless in places, its body scarred by jagged cuts crisscrossed with fresh ones.

“Identify yourself!” Arika roared, her blade ready to finish the sad-looking creature. “Are you my enemy? Answer!” The wraith-like pony made only pathetic whimpers as it used a diseased hoof to cover it’s face.

“I demand to know what you are, creature!” she snarled.

“They’re totally hilarious aren’t they?” a chirpy voice enquired. It sounded perfectly polite and friendly, but the effect on the creature was immediate. The beast tore at its own face and tried to push further into the dark corner where Arika had thrown it, as if the rock itself might swallow it up.

Arika cursed under her breath and spun back around. Laying comfortably with her forelegs crossed atop a jagged ledge halfway up the canyon wall was a unicorn mare. Her face was half-hidden by the ravine’s shadows, but her messy nest of a crimson mane and bright purple eyes were a stark contrast to the surroundings. A cheshire smile was plastered on her face, showing off perfect white teeth.

“Isn’t it kinda sweet when it squirms and mewls like a scared kitten?” she continued, her tone light and easygoing. “Totally adorkable! I could just moosh its widdle cheeks...”

Arika wasn’t foolish enough to take her eyes off the unicorn, but she could hear the continued scuffling as the…creature made vain attempts to escape. Instead she narrowed her golden eyes, her right talon tightening around her sword.

“It’s terrified,” she coldly noted over the wraith’s whimpers.

The unicorn tilted her head to the side, her smile unfading. Arika noticed how...young she looked. Young and skinny; practically on the edge of anorexic. Arika struggled to see how the scruffy mare could even be considered a threat, but the horrified reaction of the mutant told her that letting her guard down would be unwise.

“...why is it so scared of you?”

“Huh? Oh. No idea,” the unicorn replied with a disinterested, evasive tone. “We were just...playing.”

Arika bristled. As a practical griffon and a warrior, she understood the need for drastic action; a pragmatic attitude had helped her save the lives of her brothers and sisters in the past...but this? Torturing a witless little animal for naught but sadistic amusement?

The shuffling and sniffing of the wraith-like pony behind her grew more immediate and despairing. Arika snorted loudly, pushing thoughts of the terrified creature away, and pointed her blade up at the scruffy unicorn.

“Leave it alone,” Arika ordered loudly and clearly, taking a simple but meaningful step forward.

The unicorn’s stupid smile faltered slightly. She eyed Arika with a dubious expression, as if not quite understanding her reaction.

“But it’s fun?” she explained. Or questioned; Arika wasn’t quite certain which.

“Leave it alone or I’ll tear out your horn and beat you to death with it,” Arika said, letting just the right amount of her carefully concealed tension slip through her otherwise cold, emotionless tone.

“Aww come on! It’s not like they’re real...” the unicorn whined, rolling her eyes dramatically. “They’re just shadows of...stuff, y’know?”

The mare leapt from the ledge with surprising dexterity and grace for such a bony, fragile thing. Arika snarled and lifted her blade, but the unicorn didn’t seem to acknowledge it. Instead, she gave the griffon an excited grin, as her horn began to glow a bright purple.

“Hey, check this out! I can make him do the most adorable little wail—”

“I said STOP!”

Arika launched forward, blade poised to separate the mare’s head from her shoulders. Before the unicorn could so much as blink, the sword connected with her neck, but the blade slashed through as if she was made of air.

The effect on the mare however, was immediate. Bright cracks quickly danced over her form as she grinned widely at Arika.

Then she shattered.

Arika gave a cry as she leapt back, baffled as the mare disintegrated like a china pot smashing on the floor; pieces of white glass flying in every direction, which then turned to smoke themselves. The creature took its chance and broke out from it’s corner, but Arika ignored it.

“The griffon warrior with a heart of gold?” a curious voice chirped from behind her, breaking her out of her brief reverie.

Arika grit her beak and turned, finding herself confronted with the unicorn—untouched and unharmed from her previous decapitation. She was even smaller up close—barely an adult by pony standards. Under her short, blood red mane, her huge purple eyes drank in Arika’s expressions like a thirsty child. A purple choker was attached around her neck; a small necklace—ending with a skull shaped amulet—swung back and forth as she walked. She was indeed lithe to the point of looking unhealthy, and her flank was marked by a pair of masks. One was weeping, with tears running down its cheeks; the other was full of mirth, its whole face shaped with laughter lines.

There were also three of her.

“Magic...” Arika spat.

“It’s just sooooo...romantic,” the middle one said dreamily with half-lidded eyes.

“You kinda have to wonder why she’s here. Doesn’t seem the type for the whole…‘murder everyone to make your wish come true’ thing,”Right pondered aloud.

“Maybe she’s like us!” Left giggled. “Maybe she’s just here for fun!”

The unicorns glanced at the blade pointing towards them with polite interest. They laughed. The laughter echoed around the area as two of the unicorns faded from sight, leaving just the middle one, who gave Arika a huge wink.

The pair began to circle each other; Arika’s movements cautious and precise, while the mare sort of…skipped.

“So you were dragged along to this tourney too, huh?” Her voice was rather singsong in its quality. To some it might’ve been considered pleasant, but Arika found it grating at best. “Brought to you LIVE by the powers of imagination, death, and an old draconequus that has way too much time on his hooves…claws. Paws. Whatever.”

“And who are you?” Arika demanded as the pair continued to pace around each other, always equidistant, their eyes never breaking contact.

“Call me Hoax, my feathered friend! So very nice to meetcha! You and your talons.”

“General Arika,” the griffon offered only a tiny nod.

“A general?” Hoax’s ears pricked up. “Gosh, I am in finecompany. Since my other toy ran away...maybe you’ll play with me instead?”

“I don’t play.”

Arika pushed forward without warning, slashing and stabbing. Hoax danced and waltzed, giggling as the blade narrowly missed her every time. Her movement was erratic and random, and to make matters worse she sometimes disappeared from sight—simply fading into nothingness in the blink of an eye—only to reappear a few seconds later somewhere else and stab forward with a small, sharp dagger strapped to her hoof.

The griffon snarled and was forced on the defensive as Hoax’s haphazard attacks left her with little chance to respond. She allowed herself to be forced backwards, concentrating, waiting for an opening to strike. The moment presented itself as Hoax appeared to her left. Arika feigned a slash, causing her to somersault backwards from an attack that would never come. Arika pushed her momentary advantage, launching forward and cutting into the mare’s exposed chest with her blade.

The moment the sharp steel cut her skin, Hoax evaporated into nothingness with a deafening crack.

Arika swore out loud. Silence fell, save for the griffon’s own labored breathing.

“My, how strong you are! Such speed! Such grace! I’m totally into you right now. Might get you to sign my collar.”

Arika’s head snapped up to see Hoax back on the ledge again, gazing down at her with a smile that threatened to split her face in two. She looked unharmed and entirely unruffled from the fight—well, no more unruffled than she already was.

“Will you just shut up and fight me already?” Arika shouted, a snarl forming on her sharp eagle-like face. “What’s the matter, tramp? Too scared to face me like a real warrior?”

Hoax chuckled wildly, her frame shaking. “Isn’t fighting in a dirty little tournament a little low for a reputable bird such as yourself? Aren’t you supposed to be, I dunno, leading the griffons to another totally glorious war somewhere?”

“I am fighting for the future of my species,” Arika said firmly. “You wouldn’t understand these matters, nor do they concern you.”

“Oh, so you are in a war.” Hoax giggled. “I was just kidding, but you’re kind of a walking cliche, aren’tcha?”

“No, I am not,” Arika’s grip on her sword tightened. “Many of my kin seek only war and conquest for their own greed and glory, or revel in conflict itself. I wish to unify the tribes before they tear themselves apart.” She regarded the unicorn as a tiny smirk formed at the base of her beak. “I doubt you can claim you’re here for noble reasons. Do you need more dye for that whore’s mane of yours?”

“Izzat it? That’s all you’re here for?” Hoax rolled her eyes. “Geez. Selfish. Not to mention boring with just a little dash of weaksauce.” She stood abruptly, teetering a little as she balanced on her hind legs and spread her forehooves wide. “You need to think bigger, y’know? Get some ambition!” she shouted the last word to the heavens, its sound echoing off the walls of the ravine. “And I’ll have you know I’m a natural redhead.”

“You’re a natural bitch.”

The mare practically beamed with glee. “Now you’re gettin’ it!” Hoax said, her horn once again glowing a bright purple.

“What is wrong with you?” The griffon shook her head even as she spread her wings wide and began to cautiously advance on the unicorn.

“I’m Hoax—conveyer of tricks and hilarity!” the unicorn announced with a flourishing bow. “My performances are places where the only real truths are comedy or tragedy…sometimes both!”

“I think I’ll skip the show...and go straight for the throat!” Without hesitation, Arika launched forward, using powerful wingbeats to close the gap, sword pulled back to her hip and ready for a killing thrust.

For the first time, Hoax’s eyes betrayed the slightest hint of fear. The glow evaporated from her horn as she stumbled back a half-step, only for her back to press up against the uneven surface of the cliff, her gaze fixed on the gleaming edge of the blade speeding toward her neck.

A sudden gust of wind, dozens of times stronger than the weak breezes Arika had felt in this place up to now, blasted through the canyon with howling ferocity. Hoax was bowled over and scrambled to try and maintain her hold on the ledge, her eyes squeezed tightly shut against the chaotic wind. Her horn glowed and she began pushing away with her telekinetic force, deflecting the glassy debris.

In mid-flight, Arika was even more at the gale’s mercy. She tumbled head over paws, struggling to keep her wings pumping in the right direction. Her eyes were also closed, and thus the sensation of slamming back-first into the unforgiving ground made her gasp as the air blasted from her lungs. She bounced once and crashed back to the ground in sidelong roll, as the world faded away to inky blackness.

\—D—/

The horrible screeching made by the wind as it whistled through the jagged canyon died down almost as suddenly as it had arrived, leaving Hoax’s ears ringing in pain. Slowly, the unicorn forced one eye open, then the other, taking in the scene around her. The ravine was still mostly empty, save for the sound of a few shards of broken glass tumbling down its walls. Arika was nowhere to be seen.

Hoax rose shakily to her hooves, knocking glass shards from her tousled mane. “What in the hell was that?” she asked the silence.

No. Not silence, she realized. There was something else, a low rumbling that sounded like it was coming from nearby, yet she couldn’t tell from what direction. Ears swiveling to try and pinpoint the source, she turned around completely, looking up into the sky above the crest of the canyon. Eyes wide open, she felt her mouth drop.

“Whoa…” Hoax breathed. She scrambled up the wall of the ravine, levering herself over the top as the wind hit her in the face again. It wasn’t as strong as before, and was growing weaker, so Hoax forced herself to stand, shielding her face with one hoof as she looked to the sky.

Spiraling up into the clouds was the most tremendous tornado she had ever seen; its violent winds lashing outward in every direction as it swept across the fragile, glassy plain leaving a trail of shattered destruction in its wake. Hoax stared for what seemed like minutes, mesmerized by the dancing glints that sparkled through the core of the vortex as fragments of razor sharp glass whipped around at hundreds of miles an hour.

“Oh, that’s gorgeous,” Hoax breathed. “And deadly. Mooostly deadly.” The storm was moving away, but the trail of pulverized glass it left behind passed fairly close to one end of the ravine only a few hundred paces away. “Oh, like a funnel,” she whispered, realizing how the dangerous gust had come about. “Heehee! It was fun-nel, all right!” she laughed at her own joke.

A stifled groan from the canyon behind her, almost lost in the wind, drew her attention back to matters at hand. From her new vantage, she could see Arika below. The griffon’s battered form lay against the far wall of the canyon a few dozen strides downwind. Hoax grinned and leaped back down to her ledge, followed by another pair of bounds that brought her to the canyon floor.

“Though it looks like it wasn’t as fun-nel for you as it was for me, huh, birdy?” she chuckled. “You ok?” She prodded the still form with a hoof when she received no response, but the contact drew no reaction either.

“Aww, c’mon! It’s no fun if you die now!” Hoax frowned. “‘Newsflash! Big, tough griffon general taken down by a breeze!’” Her voice became a gruff parody of a sports announcer. “How stupid does that sound, huh?”

Arika stayed motionless, her breathing shallow and ragged. Hoax looked down on her for another moment with a disinterested frown before her face snapped back into a customary smile.

“Oh well! Looks like I win!” she hopped in a circle cheerily. “Although.” She paused, her eye catching sight of the katana on the ground a few steps away. Her grin turned darker as she wrapped the blade in her purple magic, lifting it into the air and giving it a cursory swing. “I suppose we could still have a little fun...”

She stepped closer, hovering the blade over the fallen griffon point down. Just as she pulled it back to strike, the prone Arika flipped, her hindpaws sweeping Hoax’s forehooves out from under her. She dropped, chin first, into the ground. As stars exploded across her vision, her TK grip on the sword vanished, dropping it harmlessly to the ground. She couldn’t see but felt the tight grip of a claw on her horn, holding her in place. She tried to cast a spell but felt her head jerk, breaking her concentration.

“Ah ah, no more of your cowardly tricks. Well then. You said you were a performer, didn’t you?” Arika said in a low, menacing voice as Hoax strained her neck to pull free from the griffon’s iron grip. “What did you think of my ‘injured and helpless’ act?”

“Get offa me!” Hoax screamed, flailing and striking at Arika’s arm to no avail. “Leggo of my horn! That’s cheating!”

Arika shook her head, smoothly reclaiming her weapon from where it lay. “This is no game, unicorn. You cannot ‘cheat’ in war.”

“Game?” Hoax said, momentarily going still and blinking as the word soaked in. “Y-you think I’m playing a game?” Her confusion evaporated as her face contorted into an expression nothing short of pure, feral rage. “Oh you stupid little rooster! You know nothing about me, got it?!”

With her last words she lashed out with her hoof-dagger, catching Arika at the elbow. The griffon let out a squawk of surprise and pain, reflexively releasing Hoax’s horn and giving her enough time to concentrate to cast a spell. Right away she vanished, completely.

Invisible to her foe, Hoax scrambled to her hooves and took off at a full gallop, feeling the rush of air behind her as Arika swung down at the spot where she had been a split second before. She bolted for the end of the canyon, her invisibility fading as she ran, the only thought in her mind that she needed to put as much distance between her and her opponent, lest she be skewered.

\—D—/

Arika spread her wings to pursue, but a sharp pain at the base of her primary feathers made her gasp, and a quick inspection revealed a jagged piece of glass impaled near the joint. Gripping the shard in a talon, she tore it loose with a snarl and hurled it against the canyon wall. Her prey now had a decent head start, so she sheathed her weapon and took off in pursuit on all fours.

As she emerged from the canyon she spotted Hoax just as she disappeared between a giant stone boulder with a split running down the middle and the tall obsidian spires nearby. Arika swore under her breath, standing on her hind legs once again and drawing her weapon as she strode slowly into the reflective forest.

A chilling, uneven breeze whistled between the towering, mirror-smooth obsidian spires. Arika’s keen eyes flicked left and right as movement surrounded her, only to realize that she was being stalked by her own reflection. Every motion she made came right back to her from a dozen directions. A giddy whinny drifted to her ears on the unnerving wind.

“Come out, you coward!” Arika shouted, her voice reverberating through the spires in disconcerting ways. The laughter came again, this time much more immediate. Much closer.

“If you want me that much…here I am,” a sultry whisper spoke into Arika’s ear. She whirled, slashing out with her katana only for it to find purchase in the reflective side of a spire. The mirror-like surface cracked, but Arika managed to catch a fading glimpse of Hoax’s likeness as it receded into the depths of the pillar and vanished.

“Oh,” her voice echoed from all directions, “but you didn’t say ‘please’.”

Arika snarled and ripped her sword free from the broken glass as Hoax’s mad laughter continued. She turned just in time to catch a blast of purple energy in her gut, knocking the wind out of her and slamming her painfully against the spire where she let out a strangled shriek.

She hung there even after the blast faded, her battered but unbroken armor sizzling, before she pitched forward, just barely catching herself by stabbing her weapon into the ground and leaning on the hilt. She inhaled sharply, forcing air back into her lungs and taking several greedy breaths. With difficulty, Arika raised her head only to freeze in place as her eyes went wide.

Hoax was standing right before her, but just like back in the canyon there were more than one. A lot more. Every mirrored surface the griffon could see bore the unicorn’s image. She was reflected over and over from a dozen different angles. And every one was laughing. Some chuckled softly, while others cackled with insanity. Still more giggled gleefully, while yet even more…cried? The sounds echoed around and within each other, assaulting Arika’s senses in discordant ways she had never experienced.

The sheer stimulation overload began to make her head throb. Arika clutched at her temple and squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force herself to ignore it. She needed to focus. She needed to block out the illusions and the false noise and—

“It’s okay to be scared,” Hoax’s voice came to her as another whisper, softer and yet louder still than the cacophony behind it. “I’m afraid of death too, y’know.”

“I,” Arika forced her words through a gritted beak, “am not afraid…of death! I will face my end with dignity…like my mother and father before me!” The laughter grew quieter as rage bubbled in her heart. Long-forgotten hatred of these weak and pathetic cowards—these ponies—tore its way to the surface. “But my end won’t be today…and it will NOT BE TO YOU!”

Her howl reverberated through the forest, shattering illusion and sound alike, leaving only a single, stunned unicorn across the clearing from where Arika now panted, leaning even more heavily on her sword.

“Wow, I didn’t think you had it in you, sister,” Hoax said with an air of admiration. “You must have a brain in that feathered head of yours after all.”

“Enough,” Arika spat, pulling herself to her full height and tugging her blade free of the ground. “I have had enough of these silly distractions. Stand and face me! Meet your death like the worthless sack of meat you are!” Despite her ultimatum, Arika was hardly surprised when she was answered by yet another giggle.

“My my, aren’t you a plucky little thing.” Hoax rolled her eyes. “Well, you’re quite correct, of course… Us ponies are all silly. They all make me laugh. Silly, silly, silly!” she tittered to accentuate her point. “But you know what’s even sillier? The fact that you’re going to lose to one of them. Imagine that? Losing in the first round to such a silly sack of meat! I bet that’d make your parents just die of embarrassment—oh, wait.” Hoax paused, her smile widening. “They’re already dead.”

Arika’s eyes flashed, her restraint snapping like the unicorn bones she pictured breaking with her bare talons. “You dare to—”

She was cut off as the wind suddenly picked up again, whistling through the mirrored forest around them. Arika’s feathers ruffled about her as Hoax looked up, her eyes darting about in panic—and then realization.

“Oooooooh… The pretty and deadly thing!”

Arika had no time to question what that meant before the wind redoubled in strength, nearly lifting her off the ground before she tucked her wings tightly to her sides. The howling was now deafening and clearly coming from the sky, where she finally caught sight of the cyclone, its swirling, sparkling judgement scything through the obsidian forest toward her.

Her instincts kicked in. Arika turned and bolted as fast as her legs could carry her even as the force of the winds snapped the pillar beside her in half, splintering the spire and adding more sharp edges to the oncoming storm. She dared not look back, but behind her she could hear the forest being leveled. She needed somewhere to hide—somewhere that would offer shelter from the storm.

Somewhere like that split boulder near the edge of the forest.

She turned, feeling sharp pain slice across her back through layers of feather and down, and bolted in the direction she hoped was the way she had entered the forest. Dropping her sword, she fell to all fours, bounding around another spire as the boulder came into sight. She sprinted for it, her legs and lungs burning, and threw herself into the narrow gap. It was a claustrophobic fit, but Arika tucked her head under wings and arms, curling up as tightly as she could.

The wind screamed, tearing through the space around her with a ferocity that shook the earth itself, and Arika found herself screaming right back. Her wings and back stung as shards of glass peppered them. For one terrifying instant she felt the boulder shift and thought it was all over.

After an eternity that lasted barely a minute, the wind began to die. The roar of the cyclone receded, leaving Arika’s ears ringing in muted tones. Slowly, painfully, she inched herself free from the boulder until she stood beside it with one talon out to steady herself. Here she beheld the wrath of nature in its truest form.

The forest was simply gone. For almost a hundred paces in every direction, the spires of obsidian were no more; blasted from existence in a matter of seconds. The ground itself was nearly bare save for a few broken stumps of rough glass, the grey soil, and a littering of small reflective shards that made it sparkle in the weak light like an ashen sea. There was only one feature that caught Arika’s attention.

Limping on her hind legs, the griffon made her way to what remained of her former foe. She had deep, bleeding lacerations from muzzle to tail, with her legs—all three that were still attached—bent at unnatural angles much like her neck. Her horn had been snapped off at the base, and her once spirited eyes now stared up at Arika with a glassy, lifeless gaze.

Arika gazed right back, the sight of a corpse not an unfamiliar one. She drew in a deep breath, her ribs—and in truth, the rest of her—aching as she slowly released it.

“I would have preferred to kill you myself,” she said quietly.

“Me too.”

Arika felt something impact her back between her wings, and her insides suddenly turned cold. Her eyes focused on the silvery-red object protruding from her chest, but for some reason her brain couldn’t quite comprehend its purpose, nor did she truly register the body lying before her shattering into tiny motes of purple light.

Something came to rest on her shoulder. Arika twisted her head and found herself beak to muzzle with a battered and bruised—but very much alive—Hoax. One of her eyes was swollen shut, and a deep cut bled from just below her ear on the same side, but the excited grin and gleam of joy in her eyes had never been stronger.

“Hi!” the mare said cheerily.

Arika opened her beak, but instead of words only a bloody gasp rose up from her throat. Her vision darkened, and then the ground rushed up to meet her.

\—D—/

Hoax sighed as she released her magical grip on the handle of Arika’s katana and let the dead griffon slump forward to the ground, her own weapon serving as a macabre monument to her defeat.

“Everypony always leaves… Apparently every griffon, too,” she said with a pout and another quiet exhale. “Why do they always leave?”

A flash of light and a decidedly magical hum sprang up behind her, and Hoax turned to see the crack in the boulder where Arika had taken refuge glowing with a white light.

“Hm. Exit, stage rock!” she chirped, rearing up and kicking her forehooves in the air. She started for the boulder, only to turn back and lean down close to Arika’s body.

“Don’t you worry,” she said sweetly, tapping the dead griffon’s cheek. “When I’m done here, no one will be alone…ever again...” With that, she merrily headed towards the apparent exit.

Glass Marionette (Win)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Hoax's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Glass Marionette (Win)

Glass Marionette

‘Best of luck.’

The words above the newly formed door seemed to glow despite the gloomy surroundings.

This entire day had been one strange sorcery after the other and she had never had the patience for cowardly magic tricks. Even still, taking that risk one more time and escaping the suffocating cramped feeling this room was giving her was an option she was raring to make. She’d give anything to feel the wind again.

One small push and the door opened onto a near impossible scene. Clouds roiled as if something was disturbing the wind, sending them to and fro across the sky. Every now and then, a flash of lightning would fill the sky, accompanied almost instantly by the roar of the thunder. It seemed almost angry. Arika stepped out of the door fully and she immediately felt the wind on her feathers, “I’ve never felt a wind like this before, it’s almost unnatural...and that lightning is far too close for comfort.”

The surrounding environment seemed almost exclusively plains that rolled on across a series of hills and valleys, but there was a patchwork nature to it. There would be dark spires of void black minerals jutting up from the earth like the swords of fallen warriors, vast swathes of jagged trees that reflected light, fields with long blades of grass that looked almost as deadly as their namesake and didn’t even move in the strong winds. Just next to that was a hillside that seemed impossibly smooth as if it had been coated in a perfect film of ice. Some areas even seemed to absorb the light and remained in a perfect blackness, hiding whatever could possibly be lurking within.

Arika gripped the hilt of her sword reflexively, strange though it was, this was certainly the field of battle. There was a familiar calmness to it, beyond even the roiling clouds and swirling winds, a calmness that seemed to know that death had occurred here and now sat in contemplative reverence. It was the same feeling she had gotten on the vast plains of her hometown, where her parents and countless other proud Griffon parents fought valiantly to their last breath. She had found her resolve that day, the mission she would devote her very being to completing.

She unsheathed her sword and planted the tip into the rough soil below her. With one claw still gripping the hilt tightly, she repeated the words she had told herself that day. “If you want to change the world, then you must become change. To destroy a world ruled by strength, I must become strength.”

Lightning filled the sky once more and a deathly silence followed the thunder. The wind immediately ceased, casting an eerie stillness across the valley. Then, from seemingly nowhere, a voice boomed, “Welcome, friends, to round one. By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.” There was a pause before it added, “Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

“Round one? Opponent? Arena?” Arika’s brain went into overdrive, dissecting the information she had just been given and only one conclusion came to her. “I have to fight. The bastard is making me fight and to what end?” She closed her eyes and sat down, feeling the dry grass crack under her weight as she meditated. ‘Maybe I’m just missing a key piece of evidence, but I can’t make heads or tail of this.’

Another fork of lightning shot across the sky followed ever closely by the crack of thunder. Even through her intense dislike of thunderstorms, she sat calmly and resolutely, trying to think of anything she could work with. Then, like the lightning storm above her, inspiration hit.

“Is it really as simple as defeating opponents until you get a prize? Is he just doing this for fun?” A dark figure appeared in the corner of her vision in the valley, moving slowly from behind a heap of rubble that looked like it had once been a house. Arika reached instinctively for her blade and readied herself in a combat stance.

The figure was equine in build and, judging by the lack of shadows around it, had a dark grey coat and a dusty grey mane. Even from this distance, Arika could see the lifelessness in his eyes and his slow stumbling movements made him no real threat. She breathed out and calmed herself down, now was not the time to get jumpy. The armoured griffon scanned the environment and found several other broken down stone piles that looked like the first one. Her first thought was of a village that had been sacked and razed to the ground, but that didn’t seem quite likely. The piles of rubble were almost neat and uniform, as if they had merely eroded. There were no obvious signs of battle even though her senses were blaring sirens in her head to tell her to stay on guard. It seemed as if this was once a village, but all hope and life had been drained away, leaving a despairing husk in it’s wake.

Arika took a deep breath and focused herself. “If I understand this correctly, there are one or more enemies that I have to hunt down and defeat. Those enemies have presumably been given the same orders to hunt down and defeat me, so I should be wary of any and all lifeforms. Even a stumbling husk can do some damage if you allow it to.” Saying it out loud seemed to cement it in her mind. As a general, she was used to barking out her orders and having her comrades follow them. Even though she had no allies with her to help, she still felt it necessary to do it, even if the only one she was ordering around was herself. It reminded her of the times she would be following the orders of her mother, and with a smile she spread her immense wings and took off into the air, keeping so low that her toes could feel the grass racing past.

Her keen eyes scanned the area before her and she tracked any sign of movement with laser precision. She took stock of her surroundings, drawing up a potential battle plan in her mind, but a sudden shift in the winds caused her to grind to a halt, her paws digging a groove into the ground. She had been heading towards a body of water she had spotted and was about to investigate the sandy area next to it, but her instincts had suddenly made her stop what she was doing. A bolt of lightning promptly struck the sand not fifteen feet away from where she had stopped, right about where she would be had she kept flying. The only evidence that anything had happened was a scorch mark where smooth sand had been previously.

“They call that a fulgurite, what’s left after the lightning hits the sand, don’tcha know? Rolls off the tongue doesn’t it!? Ful-gur-ite...” It was a voice, high-pitched, cheerful and most definitely not the griffon’s. Arika’s eyes bulged as she realised what this meant, in that one moment where the lightning struck, she had dropped her guard and someone had managed to get the drop on her. Judging by their tone, they were female and judging by the fact that she wasn’t already dead, wanted to make a proper introduction before the fight started. Then again...they could just be an idiot.

Arika took a shuddering breath, angry at herself for being so stupid. She tried her best to calm down, keep her mind on the inevitable battle and think clearly. For a start, she decided to play along with her opponent, at the very least it could throw her off her game by taking some of the power back in their meeting. “It can get quite stormy up in the mountains and I like to think I know my fair share about lightning. Like the fact that it has yet been able to touch me.” Arika turned with a smile to face her opponent, to look them in the eye as befitting a true warrior. “We don’t get much sand however, so no, I can’t say I did know what it was.”

Atop a nearby tree, or what seemed to be a glass structure in the shape of a tree, a unicorn pony sat on one of the branches, staring gleefully down at the griffon. It was clear right away that she was nothing like the lifeless husk that had appeared earlier; unlike that one, there was an unsettling sparkle in her eyes. Perhaps it was just the bright shade of purple, but Arika’s instincts were telling her that there was something hiding behind those eyes, something not quite natural. Another unnatural thing about the unicorn was her obnoxiously bright red hair. Arika was surprised that she hadn’t seen that from a mile away. “I am Arika, head of the Raijinshu. Who, may I ask, might you be?”

The pony flashed a brilliant grin and leapt off the top branch, pulling off a forward flip in the air and landing almost weightlessly on the ground. As if from nowhere, a wizard’s hat appeared atop her head, which she promptly swept off with a grandiose sweep of her hoof. With a graceful bow, she announced, “I am Hoax, the Laughing Mare, the Ringmaster to our little event! I am so glad to have such an able looking performer with me today.”

Arika narrowed her eyes, keeping her gaze focused on the pony’s every move. She flinched when Hoax alighted her horn, her claw pulling at the sword by her side, a flash of silvery light emerging from the sheath. The unicorn’s hat suddenly disappeared and Arika breathed easy; she had only minimal contact with unicorn ponies and could never trust what that ability of theirs could do. “I am no tumbling fool here to entertain you and as much as I hate listening to that monster, we are here to fight, no? Arm yourself and come at with me with all you have!”

Hoax didn’t even seem to be listening; she seemed to looking at the water over the griffon’s shoulder.

“Look at me, coward!” Arika growled.

That got the unicorn’s attention. Despite being taller by some margin than the pony, she couldn’t help but feel uneasy when she finally got what she wanted. She did not like those eyes, not one bit. Hoax giggled. “Oh, I was just thinking about what you said earlier...about the lightning.”

“So you have at least some manners. Your etiquette still needs a lot of work, however.” Funnily enough, Arika could feel the tension flowing out of her body; this mare was so idiotic that it didn’t feel like a serious fight at all. Just as a small smile was about to form on her face, she heard a bizarre sound come from the pony across from her; it sounded almost like a content sigh.

Hoax’s cheeks were almost as red as her hair and she was grinning madly. “I want to be your first time!”

Arika had exactly point three seconds to think about that strange pronouncement before the answer hit her literally across the head. It felt almost like a bamboo sword and it hit just as hard as she remembered from her training, except this felt like it was made of rock, which splintered and smashed as it impacted her skull. Her left eye closed immediately, the tiniest bits of debris irritating it beyond use. She raised a claw to her eye immediately but stopped just a moment before. “No...rubbing will only make it worse.” With her remaining eye, she glowered at the unicorn who had dissolved into a fit of laughter. “I was right with my first judgement. You are a coward, using such a cheap tactic.”

The unicorn got up on her hooves again and wiped away a tear, a mad grin still plastered on her face. “Fulgurites are often called petrified lightning because of the way they form. Guess I just stained your perfect record, huh?”

Arika tensed herself once again, her claw holding the hilt of her sword tightly, her feline back legs coiled like springs. “Prepare yourself, you craven fool, for I will not hold anything back.” She pounced, unfurling her wings as she sped across the gap between them. In one smooth motion, she caught the eye of the pony with her one good eye, unsheathed her sword and swung it upwards in an arc through the pony’s chest. She skidded to a halt and inspected her sword, ready to sheathe it, only to see it was as perfect and clean as when she had first gotten it. She looked behind her and saw that Hoax had vanished.

“Oooh, so close, that one was a hoax...little ‘h’...better luck next time!” The voice came from another direction, far away from where Arika now stood. A shock of bright red hair emerged from a forest of obsidian pillars and even from a distance, the look of smugness was hard to miss. “You’ve got such a big sword and all I have is this tiny little dagger.” She pulled out the dagger, a cruel looking blade with noticeably sharp edges, and pouted. “Whatever can I do against such a mighty foe?”

Sensing an opportunity, Arika took a few tentative steps forwards, keeping her sword at the ready. If the unicorn decided to jump out and try to attack with the dagger there was no question that the griffon would come out on top, but if Arika pressed too much it would leave her open to any kind of magical traps and tricks. She kept at a reasonable distance, giving her the advantage of not having to make too much of a move. If Hoax wanted her dead she would have to show her cards and spring the trap right now. The unicorn seemed to grasp this fact after a few seconds; the smile slipped from her face for a fraction of a second and she sighed.

“Well aren’t you a cautious Cathy?” Hoax’s horn glowed purple with magical energy, an ethereal glow that was reflected on the perfectly smooth surface of the obsidian. The unicorn laughed out loud and suddenly the glow had spread throughout the entire forest of spires, more bright red heads poking out to look at their opponent, each one with the same mad grin and staring eyes. “That’s a super scary look you’re giving me, bird lady. What’ll it take for you to give me a little smile, eh?” The sea of Hoaxes pressed forwards, each unicorn horn crackling with power. “It’ll make killing you much more fun.”

The griffon backpedalled and took to the skies with a flap of her grey wings. “Seems I made the right move after all, magic can do some terrifying things…” She suddenly dive bombed as a barrage of purple bolts of magical energy flew towards her. Wave after wave of magic bolts tried to clip her wings, but the griffon had years of practice dodging enemy arrow showers and flew gracefully between them as if she were merely performing. With a well practiced rotation, she dived again, her sword held in front of her like a spear and ploughed through a row of ponies, each and every one of them shattering like glass. Arika landed and folder her wings, breathing a little heavier. “All fakes, but the real one must still be in there.”

Almost as if the unicorn had heard her, all but one of the Hoaxes shattered into dust. “I’m bored of that...time for a new trick!” She pulled out the small dagger again and held it in front of her, her horn guiding it’s movements through the air.

“You expect to beat me with that?” Arika shouted, a look of derision on her face. She held her sword aloft and allowed it to catch the light, sending rainbows across the entire field of glass. “This sword was created to destroy weaponry and without a weapon most creatures are nothing. This is a fundamental law of the battlefield. I respect you for standing up to me like that but remember there is a fine line between bravery...and stupidity.” Arika’s back legs sprang her into action once again. She approached quickly and barely gave Hoax any time to bring her dagger up to block. Arika aimed her slice for the neck and swung with perfect precision...hitting nothing but air. Hoax shattered into dust once more.

“Grr…” Arika held her head up, sweeping the environment for the unmistakable red hair of her slippery opponent. “Your tricks are really starting to annoy me, coward!”

A bolt of lightning cracked through the sky and Arika whipped her head around. The lightning was long gone of course, but so was Hoax it seemed.

“Let’s play a game!” The voice of her nemesis suddenly appearing in her head, Arika immediately scanned her surroundings but found nothing out of place. “Oh, you won’t find me nearby, I escaped a while back.” Even though it was just a voice, Arika could see the unicorn’s manic expression in her head. It was really annoying her. The griffon took this chance to sit down and recover her stamina. She even sheathed her sword, but kept it within easy reach.

“The rules are simple: find me and don’t die! Or y’know...die and save me the trouble coming ALL the way back. Whichever one works for you. Ciao!”

Arika sighed heavily, trying and failing to contain her annoyance. “Knowing her, she’s probably booby-trapped the whole damn valley.” She stood back up with a scowl and began a slow journey towards the forest of glass trees; it seemed like the most effective hiding place. She would have taken to the skies, but the earlier lightning strike had reminded her how risky that option was, so for now she stuck to crossing land.

The forest didn’t seem that far away, but Arika’s nerves frayed with every second she wasn’t wiping the smug smile from the unicorn’s face. Soon enough she had broken into a full fledged sprint through what was likely a tiny village, the crumbling ruins of houses on either side of her. So determined was she that she didn’t even notice the dark shape approaching her from the side. It leaped forwards and ploughed it’s entire weight into her flank, bowling her over. Arika only had enough time to pull up her sheathed sword and hold it firm with both of her claws. It tried to bite her, but the griffon shoved her sheath lengthways into the ponies mouth.

Now that she could get a closer look at it, it was the same type of pony she had seen earlier. It had a dark coat, a dark mane and eyes that didn’t really seem to ‘see’, they just had a far off expression that conflicted heavily with what it was trying to do to the griffon. Arika pushed with all her strength and forced the pony back, pulling herself back into a standing position. She unsheathed the sword and pointed it at her assailant. “Stay back, I have no quarrel with you!”

The shade made no indication that it had heard her, instead just slowly trying to attack the griffon once again. Arika scowled. “Halt your advance. I really don’t want to hurt you, but if pressed, I will!” Again, the shade merely kept moving.

“It’s not going to stop. It doesn’t follow rules, it doesn’t have a moral code, it doesn’t have a reason to fight, it just fights. As you said before, this is a battlefield. The only rule out here is don’t die and fighting with honour will only get you killed.” The shade reached the outstretched tip of Arika’s sword and merely kept walking into it, a tiny trickle of blood dripping down it’s forehead. She immediately pulled the sword back and backed up against a pile of rubble. The tip of her sword was stained red and she stared at it for a second before turning tail and running away.

“Too bad, killing them would have been a mercy—”

“Get out of my head!” Arika had found a lone pillar of crystal and was huddled against it. She had sheathed her sword after wiping away the blood from the end of the blade, but it didn’t help. No matter how corrupted, no matter how broken they were, her sword had tasted the blood of an innocent. She stood up suddenly, her golden eyes slightly red, and punched the crystal structure she had been sitting against. The crystal remained perfectly smooth and Arika was filled with a sudden rage, one she hadn’t felt in a very long time. Arika tried and failed to calm herself down, no matter what she did, no matter what breathing technique she been taught, the fire inside her would not be extinguished. It filled her very being and put her on edge, so much so that she couldn’t keep still.

The griffon paced back and forth, her brain unable to piece together a simple train of thought and in a moment of blind anger, she let out a terrifying shriek. In one quick motion she had unsheathed her sword and swung it with deadly power into the crystal, slicing cleanly through it. That seemed to help, as she began to breathe heavier from the exertion, the fog in her head cleared away and she was able to rationalise her thoughts again.

“Woah! That was pretty badass. Glad I didn’t get hit by that thing.” Arika tensed up immediately.

“I won’t warn you again. Stay out of my head, coward.”

There was a brief silence in which Arika thought she had finally gotten through to the crazed unicorn, but soon enough, the high pitched and annoyingly cheerful voice came back. “Then you best hurry up and find me. Take your time if you want though, watching you get angry is super fun.”

Arika didn’t dignify her with a response. She sheathed her sword and took a quick look at her surroundings; it didn’t look like the shades had bothered to follow her, so she forged onwards towards the glass trees. Despite saying that she didn’t want the unicorn in her head, Hoax had inadvertently let her know that she was in a position to see what the griffon was doing. That alone made finding her a little easier. The glass trees occupied a large hill and a section of the valley below it. With the area being relatively flat, it was one of the highest places for miles; somewhere like that would make the perfect vantage point.

Feeling a little risky, Arika unfurled her wings and took off, immediately gliding a few feet above the ground. The sky above the forest was relatively cloudless, so she felt a little more confident in flying. When she reached the trees, the first thing she noticed was that they were mirrored rather than just glass. Her reflection stared back at her from every conceivable angle. This had a rather annoying setback as light was also reflected back into her eyes wherever she turned. Arika almost wished the clouds would come back, risk of lightning or not.

Then she saw it, a red blur out of the corner of her eye. She turned to take a better look but it had already disappeared, then the reflection appeared everywhere. A pony that was unmistakably Hoax was somewhere, reflecting her image around the entire forest. Arika tightened the grip on her sword and gave chase to the reflections, but between dodging trees and scanning the gaps for the pony herself, she wasn’t having much luck. She finally emerged through a pair of trees and found herself in a wide clearing. There before her was the unicorn she had been chasing.

The grey unicorn was pacing around her side of the clearing with her trademark grin, but she always kept her eyes on the griffon. “This is a very pretty forest and I decided it would be a fitting place to stage the finale.” She held her head high and alighted her horn, which expelled a huge white beam of energy. It hit a nearby tree and began ricocheting around the forest until it had created a web of light surrounding them. “Magical Laser Cage! That ought to keep you honest.”

Undaunted, Arika smiled. “Thank you for making my job easier. Now are you finally prepared to fight me?”

Hoax merely smiled back. “The real question is, are you finally prepared to fight me?” The dagger she carried appeared, floating ominously behind her. The unicorn winked, daring the griffon to come closer.

Arika was more than happy to oblige, taking a few cautious steps forward to test her opponent’s reaction. Hoax didn’t seem to react at all; at one point she was throwing her dagger through the air, watching it twirl around before catching it again and then suddenly stepping forwards and thrusting her dagger, forcing Arika on the defensive. The attacks weren’t very co-ordinated, so it was easy to read their movements enough to swat the dagger away, but the unpredictable angle of attack that the magic allowed forced her to keep her attention on the dagger and that alone. Hoax slipped in and out of her peripheral vision, so the times she had disappeared were times that Arika couldn’t possibly keep track of her activities. The unicorn was likely unable to do any major damage without her dagger, but it was unnerving nonetheless.

As she parried an attack from down low, aiming for her chest, she took to the air for a few seconds to put some distance between her and the relentless barrage of thrusts. She landed on the other side of the laser cage and felt the grass shatter beneath her weight. It took her a second to catch her breath, but she was ready to finish things.

Hoax appeared again, the dagger thankfully back by her side once more. “I guess you really do have the skills to back up having that sword of yours. Watching you block all those attacks was super cool! I almost don’t want to kill you...but at the same time I want to more than anything else in the world right now.”

“You’ll have to get past this sword if you want any chance of killing me. That, I guarantee.” The griffon smirked haughtily.

“I’ll take that bet!” Hoax shouted, and an array of Hoaxes instantly appeared around her, each one ready to rumble. They charged forwards as a pack, but Arika could see that one had stayed behind.

Arika started forwards, meeting the doubles as they charged toward her. They had barely even made a move before she slashed them away one by one. The lone Hoax conjured a few more in the hopes of tripping the griffon up, but Arika advanced even faster, kicking herself up in the air and dive-bombing the conjured hoaxes. With nothing left to stand in her way, Arika charged straight into the unicorn, sword slicing cleanly through her neck.

As Arika landed, kicking up chunks of dirt, Arika closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “1...2...3...4…” She felt a sharp pain in her sword arm, forcing the claw open. The sword fell from her grasp but was immediately engulfed in a purple glow, stopping in mid air. All Arika could do was look back at what she knew must be behind her.

“Well well… looks like I got past your sword.” It was unmistakably her, the cut was too clean to have cleaved through a real pony’s neck. “Even managed to steal it from you. Gotta admit, kinda pathetic falling for the same trick over and over again, but griffon’s aren’t exactly known for having any real magical talent at all, so I can’t really blame you. I just...hoped for more, y’know?” Hoax lifted the sword high and Arika only had time to turn and face the unicorn before the sword penetrated her chest, a trickle of blood already falling down her chest and onto the ground.

The unicorn burst into a fit of insane laughter as she pushed the sword as hard as her magic would allow.

Arika coughed up some blood, but oddly enough she was smiling. “Heh, you think I’m that stupid?” Faster than anyone would think a griffon in that situation could move, Arika grabbed the unicorn by the neck and lifted her clean from the ground. Hoax’s eyes bugged out as she found it harder and harder to breath. She grabbed the sword in her chest by the hilt and grimaced as she pulled it out slowly.

“You have a thing or two to learn about griffon anatomy and where our internal organs are. You didn’t even hit a rib.” Arika looked at the blade, the first few inches drenched in her own blood, but a purple glow caught her eye. “Oh no you don’t.” With a practiced slash of her sword she cut right through the horn, leaving a pathetic stump that sparked and crackled with magical energy that had nowhere to go.

Arika looked the unicorn directly in the eyes, her golden ones meeting the unicorn’s dilated purple ones. “I think you’ll find my knowledge of pony anatomy is satisfactory.” Without ever breaking eye contact, she thrust her sword upwards through the unicorn’s chest with enough force to crack a few ribs and puncture the heart.

Hoax grunted, a surprisingly tame response given the situation and even stranger, she was smiling. Although with this particular unicorn, perhaps it wasn’t strange at all. With her breathing heavy and laboured she managed a few last words before the light left her eyes.

“Heh...that was pretty dirty… I’ve taught...you well...”

The griffon stayed still, staring blankly at the dead unicorn. She had killed plenty of times before, but it had never affected her like this before. She shook it off, this was no time for being weak.

The rush of battle rolled off her and suddenly she realised how heavy the unicorn was. She dropped the body and massaged the arm to rub some feeling back into, but the worst was the wound in her chest. Hoax got her quite good, but it was superficial at best. It’d scar, but Arika didn’t particularly care about that. She sat down as a wave of fatigue hit her and she knew she wasn’t getting back up in a hurry.

She vaguely remembered something about finding a door after the fight was over, but it didn’t seem too important right now. She needed to scavenge a makeshift bandage before things got bad.

“Everything around here is made of glass for some reason, so what am I-” She suddenly cut herself off...not everything was made of glass.

Arika found the door in an open field so flat it was hard to walk on without slipping. Compared to the angular, shiny surroundings, the simple wooden door stuck out like a sore thumb. Her feathers were matted with blood and the strips of grey fur she had used as a makeshift bandage were hopefully keeping her remaining blood where it should be.

With a heavy sigh of relief, she felt the exhaustion of battle finally hit her. It was time to get through the door and find somewhere to rest.

Scorched Earth (Loss)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Zephyr's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Scorched Earth (Loss)

Scorched Earth

Things cannot possibly get any weirder from here, Fire Weaver thought to himself as he stared at the door that led outside of the small, featureless, empty room that he had found himself in, contemplating just how he had gotten himself into such a situation.

When he had first been approached by this… ‘Discord’ to participate in a ‘tournament of the ages’, Weaver had at first thought he’d finally gone over the deep end and had started hallucinating and hearing things. That is, until an undeniable display of what was unmistakably chaos magic had convinced him that the alcohol he had been drinking wasn’t screwing with his head.

A single display of a Chaos God’s power… And it could conceivably be anything one could wish for, Weaver remembered thinking to himself as he stared at the glass of firewhiskey he had been holding in his telekinetic grip when he had suddenly been whisked away to come face-to-face with Discord himself. To his sides in a neat, straight line stood fifteen other individuals who weren’t just ponies—griffons, dragonlings and changelings were apparently included. The Chaos God had then told them why they had been brought there, and when Weaver heard just what the grand prize was, he had immediately tossed the shot of firewhiskey back before he had emphatically agreed to participating in the tournament.

If there is even a chance that she could be restored back to normal… I’m taking it, no matter what danger it poses. Weaver clutched at the simple bit coin marked with an intricate insignia that signified his status as an agent of the crown, his eyes tightly shut as he remembered the reason why he was here in the first place. He set a hoof on the door before him—the door that would lead into the arena where he would face his first opponent. Cursive, hang in there for me. I’m going to get you healed one way or another.

The royal agent pushed the door open and was greeted by a sight unlike anything he had ever seen before.

“Well, Discord certainly spared no effort in creating this place,” Weaver muttered as he took a step forward and peered over the edge of the rocky ledge that he stood upon, overlooking a crater lake that undoubtedly contained an at least semi-dormant volcano. The lake was already beginning to bubble and let off wisps of steam, and he could see multiple cave entrances leading off into passages in the walls of the crater.

But the kicker wasn’t how grand or vast the chaos arena Discord had created was, or the fact that it was a bucking volcano that Weaver was standing on right now—it was the fact that when Weaver took a breath in through his nose, instead of the pungent stench of fire, ash, and brimstone, the air smelled faintly of blueberries. When he peered over the edge of the ledge to take a look, he realized that the lava of the volcano wasn’t a molten orange, but a shade of cerulean blue.

Okay, I stand corrected—things just got weirder.

The lava was already beginning to break through the surface of the volcano’s top layers of cooled, hardened rock, and Weaver had just enough time to note that it was beginning to run off in smaller blue, snaking veins that disappeared into the caverns below before a loud, ringing voice echoed from the sky.

“Welcome, friends, to round one. ” Discord’s familiar, whimsical voice echoed through the air and reverberated off the rocks around Weaver. “By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.”

There was a brief pause, and Weaver was about to start moving when Discord started speaking again. “Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

Never mind the exit—just focus on finding your opponent first. Weaver didn’t have even the slightest clue of who he was up against, but if there was one thing he knew, he wasn’t going to let anything get in the way of winning the match.

His training kicking in, the royal agent of the crown slipped into the shadows, his ash grey coat blending seamlessly with the rocky walls of the cave he entered. He vanished from sight, on the prowl for his adversary.

\—D—/

Even though Weaver had knowledge of the basic horn-light spell that nearly all unicorn mages learned the moment they came into their magic, there was no need for him to use it as he explored the caves—azure-hued crystals the same color as the lava in the volcano above dotted the cavern walls at intermittent spots, illuminating the caves with an eerie, blue glow.

Weaver had tried to touch one of the crystals and found them to be far too hot to try carrying around. Still, they provided more than enough light for him to see by, and the heat from the crystals that surrounded him in the caves suffused him with the warm reassurance of an old friend that had his back.

Eventually coming out to an exit that afforded him a plain view of the volcano and the stormy ash clouds gathering over it, Weaver heard the signature keening cry of one of the many shades that occupied the arena, and he looked down to see two of the maddened aberrations kicking and scraping at one another on a ledge that hung precariously over the crater lake, just a few steps away from a fatal fall.

As he watched, one of the mad shades gained the upper hoof over the other one and sent it tumbling down into the boiling crater lake below it with a savage push… but not before its adversary managed to hook a foreleg around its own ankle and drag it down into the abyss with it, kicking and screaming.

“Poor little buzzards, aren’t they?” an unfamiliar, youthful-sounding voice came from above Weaver, and the stallion let out a startled flinch before he shot his gaze up, mentally berating himself for getting distracted.

Above him, a grey storm cloud floated a few dozen metres overhead, and a head topped by a mane of solid black peeked out, looking down expectantly at him. The pegasus seated atop the cloud had a coat of grey, and he was looking at Weaver with a friendly smile.

“I’ve been sitting up here watching them roam around for some time now. Though, I admit I was actually looking out for you,” the pegasus admitted as he stepped off the storm cloud, his wings taking him to a light hover. “Name’s Zephyr—what’s yours?”

“Fire Weaver,” Weaver answered carefully, hardly able to believe that his adversary had chosen such a bold-faced, suicidally reckless way to approach the pony that was supposed to be engaging him in mortal combat. “And I won’t mince words, Zephyr, but if you’re my opponent for the match, I have to say that you chose an exceptionally poor way to make your opening move.”

“Maybe so.” The pegasus grinned as he shrugged. “But that don’t mean I can’t get to know who exactly it is I’m fighting here, right? Just seems kinda rude to me, that’s all, not to mention it’d be really dirty fighting if I tried to get in a sucker punch.”

“Uh huh, right,” Weaver responded dully, eyeing the pegasus warily.

So, this was his opponent for the match? The pegasus didn’t look like he could have been any older than Weaver himself, and his expression bore an optimism, sense of honor, and naivete that Weaver would have found respectable, had he encountered this pegasus two years ago. Right now, all it did was remind him of all the painful mistakes he had made, and he couldn’t help but wince internally as he realized that he was going to have to fight this young, idealistic pegasus, very possibly to the death, if he wanted to win this match.

Stars above, could Discord have possibly picked a worse opponent for him to face off against in the first round?

Casting aside his thoughts, Weaver quickly refocused himself on the pegasus before him and raised an eyebrow. “So, I suppose you want us to fight like gentlecolts, then?”

“I find that a lot more preferable to dirty fighting, yes,” Zephyr admitted as he alighted on a nearby ledge. “And I know that Discord said that most of the matches would be duels to the death, but I’d also prefer it if we didn’t have to kill each other. I just don’t like… staining my hooves with that sort of thing.”

“That’s horribly impractical, and that’s the kind of thoughts that would get yourself killed horribly in the field,” Weaver said, perhaps a little more harshly than he had intended, and when Zephyr’s expression turned into a look of chagrin, Weaver grimaced slightly inside. “Although, finding an opponent who wishes to fight like that is certainly a refreshing change. You’re not a soldier of any kind, are you?”

“Nope, never was,” Zephyr shook his head. “I had the will, just...never the disposition for it.”

“So what makes you think that you can win this match against me, then?” Weaver shot at the pegasus challengingly, already bracing himself to enter a battle-ready stance. “What are you fighting for that makes you think that you can win if you aren’t willing to do what is necessary?”

“I… honestly don’t know the answer to that question, on how I can win if I’m not willing to take a life,” Zephyr admitted as his wings unfurled, already sensing the subtle shift in tension between the two of them. “But I’ve been searching for my parents for years now, and I’d sooner forsake my wings before I go down without giving it my all in my search for answers. But what about you, Fire Weaver? Who are you, and what are you fighting for?”

“All you need to know, kid, is that I am a trained agent of the Crown, and I have somepony waiting for me back home that I have to restore to health.” Weaver’s voice gained a steely edge as he began preparing his magic. “And I am going to bring her back by whatever means necessary.”

“Fighting to save a loved one, huh?” Zephyr had an almost wistful look on his face. “Yeah, I can respect that. So you’re an agent of the Crown, you say? Well then, I guess that means I won’t have to go easy on you!”

The pegasus grinned as he took to the air again, landing atop his storm cloud, and raised his legs in preparation to give it a good, hard kick. “So, what do you say we get this match started?”

“You’re more than welcome to hit me with everything you’ve got, kid.” Weaver grinned back at Zephyr. “I can assure you that I’ve dealt with much worse.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn ya!” Zephyr chuckled, and his leg lashed out at the storm cloud. There was a flash of unleashed lightning as it lashed out towards Weaver, and the unicorn immediately retreated back inside the cave as the lightning struck the ground mere inches from where he stood in a shower of sparks.

As he took cover behind a nearby rock, he saw Zephyr already streaking about in the air in tightening circles. A fresh storm cloud was rapidly forming in the centre of his arc as he drew in detritus and water vapor from the air that the volcano’s smoke plume provided, and the pegasus gave the cloud another buck, sending another burst of lightning flying towards Weaver.

The lightning bolt struck a spot a few feet away from him, and the unicorn mage decided that it was time to retaliate. Before Zephyr could begin gathering more vapor for a third storm cloud, Weaver stepped out from behind the rock and took aim, his horn blazing a fiery orange before a ray of red-hot fire lanced forward with unerring accuracy towards the airborne pegasus.

Zephyr jerked out of the way of the fire ray with a startled yelp, immediately taking higher to the air as he began to pick up speed in rapidly concentrating circles. Weaver sent several more fire rays flying at his opponent, but the airborne pegasus evaded those with ease as he continued building up velocity in the air, the winds around him steadily picking up speed. Enough speed to disturb even the pebbles that lay at Weaver’s hooves.

Oh, horseapples, he isn’t doing what I think he is, is he? Weaver cursed internally as the pegasus above him became nothing but a blur in the air that was soon surrounded by the gale-force winds of a tornado, and the royal agent reacted before the pegasus could take it any further. His horn flared as another ray of fire was sent flying towards the winds that Zephyr was manipulating… and Weaver watched as the fire got caught in the tornado and set the entire thing ablaze.

The unicorn fire mage watched with his mouth set in a grim line as a few seconds later, a small, pony-shaped silhouette trailing smoke tumbled out of the growing fire tornado... but not before he saw it twist in a certain, vindictive manner that was undoubtedly aimed in his direction, and Weaver felt his bowels spasm when he realized that the firenado was now heading his way.

Sweet Celestia, nice job breaking it, Weaver!!! the unicorn thought to himself in a panic as he scrambled back further into the cave as the firenado approached. Once he was further in enough, he spun around and began focusing his magic and his will on the only defensive spell that he had.

Immediately, a wall of fire sprang to life over the cave entrance, covering the opening in its entirety, and Weaver directed his entire focus on the spell as he felt the heat and fury of the approaching firestorm bear down upon him. He could feel the heat energy of the fire wall that he was maintaining, its volatile power shaped and controlled by his magic, and as the heat of the blazing cyclone came closer and began to overlap with the energies of his firewall, he accepted that energy into himself and subjugated it to his control with several brute force applications of his will—the purest manifestation of his power and talent over fire, as dictated by the cutie mark of a blazing flame upon his flank.

As the firenado drew closer, the flames that raged within it began to die out, and Weaver’s shield blazed brighter than Celestia’s midday sun as he transferred the heat into the energy that he was channelling into his fire shield. Moments before the cyclone reached him, Weaver cut off the power to his shield… just in time for what remained of the flames to be swept aside by the gale force winds Zephyr had conjured, and they sent the unicorn flying backwards into the cave, where he slammed into a rocky wall with a pained grunt.

Okay, not my smartest idea ever… But at least I’m not on fire. Weaver groaned as he coughed and forced himself back onto his hooves. The impact had certainly been a painful one, but it was nothing that his time as an agent of the crown had not trained him to endure. All right, so Zephyr has the definite advantage out there, and I can’t fight against him effectively when he’s up there hurling lightning bolts and tornados at me. A confrontation out in the open where he’s got the space to maneuver isn’t good, so the only place left to go is…

Before Weaver’s thought processes could get any further, there was a deafening thunderclap from the direction of the cave entrance, and without warning Weaver found himself knocked off his hooves.

The breath knocked out of his lungs by the freight train force that had barrelled right into his chest, Weaver was helpless to resist as it took him with it further and deeper into the caves, slamming him against what felt like every single wall it could find along the way. Each impact sent jolts of intense pain running through his body, and by the time his mind had caught up with what had just happened, his body already felt like it had gone several rounds with a pony-sized meat tenderizer.

What felt like an eternity of savage impacts and crash landings later, Weaver felt himself being released, and he started freefalling through the air for a few moments before gravity reintroduced him to the ground in a harsh, sudden meeting. The unicorn skidded across the stone cave floor for several meters before he managed to regain his bearings and stop himself, and he let out a groan as his injuries caught up with him.

Okay, that... might have hurt a little. Weaver winced, and he started forcing the pain of the many bruises and scrapes he had just earned out of his awareness, the discipline of his training taking over. Note to self: start using fire shield spell to defend against melee attacks. Seems that Zephyr will have to resort to hoof-to-hoof when he's stuck in the caves with me.

Apparently, thanks to whatever thunderclap maneuver that Zephyr had just pulled, both he and Weaver were now deep within the cave system of the volcano, probably dozens if not hundreds of meters underground. The pegasus had thrown Weaver loose in a large, underground chamber that was nearly the size of an amphitheater, and nearly a dozen tunnel entrances led elsewhere on multiple levels both around and above him.

On a higher ledge several metres away from him, Zephyr was on two knees upon the ground and was beginning to stand upright himself, but the pegasus was already leaning over, panting from exhaustion. The pegasus’ fur was singed in several places, and a number of his feathers were scorched, but the fight in his eyes hadn’t dimmed, and they blazed with every bit of fervor that Weaver had first seen in them when the fight had started.

Zephyr’s gaze met Weaver’s, and he gave the unicorn mage a grin. “Fire magic, huh? You don't see that too often these days. Been no real call for such aggressive spells since the time of Nightmare Moon's banishment, and that's been centuries. But here you are, wielding it as though you've been using it your entire life. You're not from around my time, are you?”

“What are you talking about? Nightmare Moon was banished only fifty years ago.” Weaver’s head spun as he registered the implications of Zephyr’s words. “You’re not telling me you’re from the future, are you?”

“Well, this is a Chaos tournament we’re fighting in, so I think finding opponents from the distant past or future isn’t all that far-fetched.” The pegasus shrugged. “I wouldn’t think about it too much, not when we’ve got winning our matches to worry about! I have my parents to find, and you’ve got your marefriend to save, so why don’t we skip the existential crises and get right down to the meat of things, huh?”

Weaver chuckled as he conceded the point. The young pegasus was right—with Cursive waiting for him back home, he couldn’t afford to be distracted. Redirecting his focus, Weaver started running through his strategies. Without access to atmospheric weather conditions, Zephyr’s only option now would be to engage in hoof-to-hoof combat, and Weaver would have sooner turned in his coin that marked his status as a royal agent than to have been unprepared for close-quarter encounters.

Without warning, the pegasus blasted forward in a sudden burst of speed as he lunged at Weaver. His body was already moving into position to deliver a punishing series of blows that even Weaver would have been hard-pressed to defend against… only Weaver needed no warning whatsoever, because before Zephyr had even moved, the unicorn already had a defensive strategy in mind.

Before Zephyr even had time to alter his path, the same flames that had protected Weaver from the fire tornado outside immediately sprang up in a shield around the unicorn that would have deterred even a charging minotaur with the heat they gave off. Unfortunately, Zephyr’s velocity made it too late for him to change his course, and he barreled right into Weaver with all the force of a wrecking ball.

The flying tackle sent them both tumbling across the ground, but the spell had accomplished its purpose. While the hit Weaver had taken was a heavy one, Zephyr’s intended flurry of blows had been averted, and right now the pegasus was too occupied with screaming and attempting to put out the fires on his fur to recover and mount another offensive.

Weaver looked at the pegasus writhing helplessly on the floor, and contemplated ending the fight right then by using one of his more powerful spells. However, the young pegasus’ screams struck a chord in him that made him hesitate for a fraction of a second, and Weaver stayed his hoof, unsure—was this how he wanted to make his first win of the tournament in his quest to save Cursive? To take an innocent, idealistic life in cold blood? Weaver hesitated at the thought of such blood staining his hooves, and the spell that was half-formed in his horn halted in its tracks.

Unfortunately, that was all the delay it took.

Before the unicorn could come to a decision, Zephyr rolled to his hooves and launched himself at Weaver, his mouth locked in a rictus of pain even though his eyes still blazed with determination. Barely able to react in time, Weaver dove out of the way, and the unicorn rolled onto his back just in time to see the pegasus land in the vicinity of one of the crystal deposits close to one of the tunnel entrances.

Weaver wasn’t sure what made it seem like a good idea at the time, but in the heat and rush of the resumed battle, the glowing crystal growth was such an inviting target that he just couldn’t help himself. Zephyr lay writhing on the ground about a few dozen feet away from the crystal deposit, and Weaver didn’t waste another second. He aimed his horn at the growth, and let fly with a fire ray.

The explosion sent Zephyr flying away even further into the tunnel beyond, and Weaver felt rather than heard a succession of chain reaction detonations reverberate further through the walls and ground, travelling further away before culminating in another massive explosion somewhere else in the cave system. The aftershock shook loose several rocks that caused the tunnel entrance Zephyr was in to collapse, and the pegasus disappeared behind an avalanche of stone and dust that Weaver couldn’t see through.

Now that their brief scuffle was over, Weaver finally had the time to properly observe his surroundings. As he looked around, he realized to his growing vindication that he had just hit the motherlode, and if he played his cards right, he might just have guaranteed his own win.

The royal agent raised his left foreleg, pulling back a small handle on the box-like device that he wore on his wrist that all field-worthy royal agents possessed, and with a deft flick, he triggered the mechanism that sent a miniature grappling hook flying upwards in a burst of compressed air. Guiding the projectile with his horn’s telekinesis, Weaver flicked his wrist again once the hook was attached to the ledge he had been aiming for. The return mechanism triggered, swiftly pulling him up into the air towards his destination, where he immediately faded into the shadows.

Over the next few minutes, Weaver crept from entrance to entrance to the cavern he was in, pulling out crystals that glowed a dim, pulsing orange from the pouches of the vest that he wore, and sticking them to the walls with small smears of sticky resin. Taking care not to place them too close to any of the glowing blue crystals—because Weaver sure as Tartarus didn’t want to set any more of them off lest he collapse the entire cavern around himself—the young unicorn stallion ensured that all of the possible entryways into the cavern were covered. Once that was done, he silently made his way back down to the ground floor of the cavern, where he finished his preparations by planting five more crystals in a more-or-less even pentagon on the cave floor, magically tethered to one another by invisible lines of arcane power.

By the time he was done, Weaver could honestly say that he was surprised that Zephyr still hadn’t found him yet. The sporadic sound of beating wings still echoed from the cave entrances, yet it never seemed to be getting any closer. All the same, if Weaver still wanted to bring a quick end to the match, he was going to have to give the young stallion a bit of a helping hoof.

“Zephyr!” the royal agent called out, and his eyes picked out a likely ambush spot that would have been perfect to get the drop on somepony who was entering the cavern. “It’s time for us to put an end to this! Come and get me with everything you’ve got, because I’m not going to be holding back on you either! Come on and make your parents proud!”

Without waiting for a response, Weaver grappled upwards to the vantage point he had spotted, and as he settled behind a rock for cover he noted the approaching sound of beating wings with grim satisfaction. Yet as the wounded and singed Zephyr came into sight, Weaver couldn’t help but wince at the extent of the pegasus’ injuries.

Zephyr was burned and bleeding in multiple places, his fur singed almost completely black over nearly his entire body, and he was keeping himself aloft with a strain that was obviously taking a toll on his wings. Yet he still moved with every bit of swiftness he had started the fight with, never giving up or stopping, and when he passed by one of the orange crystals that Weaver had planted to cover the entrance of the tunnel, the unicorn mage almost felt sorry for the poor kid.

The orange crystal, having been configured by Weaver to detonate its payload when somepony got too close to it, glowed brightly for a few seconds before it exploded in a shower of flame that washed over Zephyr once more. The young pegasus was sent into a fresh bout of screaming as he tumbled to the ground, his fur ablaze, and Weaver enacted the second step of his ambush.

A tiny bead of white-hot compressed flame gathered at the tip of his horn… right before it shot forward towards Zephyr, rapidly expanding over the several seconds it took to reach the pegasus into a blazing fireball twice the size of the explosions his pre-prepared fire crystals could make.

The resulting blast of fire swallowed the pegasus entirely from sight. When the flames died down, Weaver was amazed to see that Zephyr had somehow managed to fling himself clear of the blast radius, sparing himself the worst of the blast. Weaver didn’t doubt that had Zephyr been airborne, he would have evaded the fireball completely, but given that the pegasus was currently groundbound with the feathers of both his wings scorched, his options were severely limited right now… especially given exactly where he had landed after his desperate dive roll.

The wounded pegasus lay in the centre of the pentagon of crystals that Weaver had planted ahead of time. The young pegasus’ life was literally in his hooves right now, and if he had wanted to, he could have pulled the metaphorical trigger to end his opponent’s life and put him out of his misery, instantly guaranteeing his win... but the fire mage no longer felt like there was a need for it.

He felt like he had already done enough damage to Zephyr as it was.

As the fires died out, Zephyr lay prone on his side, burned and bleeding, immobilized by pain, and he remained that way as Weaver shot a grappling hook into the cavern ceiling before swinging his way down, slowly lowering himself to the ground just outside the pentagon of fire crystals before alighting in a whisper of a landing. The pegasus twitched as he registered Weaver’s presence, a futile effort at standing that he quickly abandoned, and he turned his eyes to meet the unicorn’s.

“Well, you got me good there, I’ll admit.” The pegasus groaned as he twitched again, once more failing to rise to his hooves. “I guess we could almost call this a draw. What do you say, best two out of three?”

“You really should stop moving.” Weaver shook his head as he looked down at his fallen opponent. “You’ll only make your injuries worse. Will you yield now, or do you think you have what it takes to still keep fighting?”

Zephyr’s mouth set itself in a grim line, and the pegasus shook his head before letting out a tired, resigned groan. “I saw the crystals you planted. Those were meant to be the framework for some sort of massive fire spell that I would be in the middle of if you triggered them right now, weren’t they?” He gave Weaver a meaningful look. “You have me dead to rights here, pal. Ain’t nothing I can do about it.”

“It was a good fight, either way.” Weaver bowed in respect to Zephyr, already feeling guilt beginning to creep up the back of his neck at how far he had been ready to go against a stallion like Zephyr just to ensure that he would win the match. “I’m sorry that you won’t be getting the chance to find your parents after all. It seems that only one of us here will be getting what we want.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Zephyr grinned as his eyes began to slowly droop closed. “If I live through this, I’ll always be able to find out some other way. That marefriend of yours though… The way you said it, it sounds like you really wanna bring her back.”

The pegasus’ eyes locked with Weaver’s one last time, and Weaver saw that the determination in the young stallion’s eyes, despite his extensive injuries, had still not faded one bit. “You need this chance a lot more than I do, so promise me… Promise me that you’ll fight for it with every fibre of your being. Bring that mare of yours back to health, and that way I’ll know that even if I didn’t win, at least some good came out of all this.”

“You don’t have to tell me twice.” Weaver chuckled as he nodded. “You’ll have my word on that as well then, Zephyr.”

“Good…” The pegasus sighed as his eyes finally closed. “I think I’m just gonna crash here for a while then…maybe take a nap and…be back at a hundred percent in no time…”

As Zephyr’s speech trailed off, Weaver watched unconsciousness take the pegasus, and the unicorn disabled the arcane tethers that kept the fire crystals connected to each other with a tired exhalation. The fight was over—there was no longer any need for them.

Far above him, he felt a brief pulse of arcane power coalesce into the exit portal in the centre of the arena, and Weaver turned away from Zephyr’s unconscious body, slowly limping and trudging his way back up to the portal, every passing second bringing him one step closer to winning the tournament… and one step closer to saving Cursive.

No… Not just that. He thought. His winning was not just for Cursive’s sake now... because now, he had also inherited Zephyr’s will.

For the sake of the honor that Zephyr had entrusted him with, Weaver resolved, whoever his next opponent was, he or she was going down.

Playing with Fire (Win)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Fire Weaver's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Playing with Fire (Win)

Playing with Fire

With the door behind him closed, Zephyr examined the room he’d stepped into. It was nothing but an empty little box, barely ten steps wide and containing only pristine white walls. The air was stale and motionless, and his grey wings twitched a little as claustrophobia began to set in, but he swallowed it down and took a few strides forward. As he did so, his vision swam and he lost his orientation.

He couldn’t tell where the walls were. He’d been sure they were close when he’d entered, but now he thought they could be farther away. The pegasus closed his eyes, took a breath, and looked back at the door he’d entered from. It hung against an endlessly white background, until it suddenly disappeared from sight with a loud Pop!

“Ponyfeathers,” he muttered darkly. Trying to remain calm, he glanced about in every direction in search of anything that stood out in the white room. Between one heartbeat and the next, there was a plain wooden door in front of him.

Sighing in relief, Zephyr ran to the door before it could disappear on him like the other. He raised a hoof to the handle, but hesitated before pulling it. Am I really going to do this? he wondered. If I win, I get my answers. If I lose… He took one last look around. The door behind him was still missing, and he didn’t see anything else in the room. “It’s not like I have a choice,” he said aloud. Taking a deep breath, Zephyr opened the door.

A wave of warm, humid wind stirred his wild black hair from the other side. Grateful for a reprieve from the stagnant air of the room, Zephyr stepped quickly into the space beyond.

Stone met his hooves on the other side of the door as he walked out onto the edge of a small cliff. Sprawled out before him was a crater roughly two miles wide and surrounded on all sides by steep, sloping mountains. Directly below Zephyr within the crater was a dense wooded area that continued outward for nearly two hundred yards before thinning out and becoming a sandy beach.

Most of the crater was filled with an enormous lake that was noticeably giving off steam. Maybe twenty yards of discolored rock lay between the water and the trees, covered here and there by large holes that likely led underground. The woods ringed the lake on all sides, though the opposite end of the lake did not appear to have as many. For that matter, most of the trees had discolored leaves and looked to be dying.

Above, the sky was a bloodshot red heavily blotted out by tattered clouds formed from the steaming lake. It was not the most welcoming sight, but Zephyr was relieved all the same to be underneath it. That relief vanished, however, when he heard the door slam shut behind him.

Something changed in the air, and the pegasus tensed immediately. A small rumble came from the sky, followed by a voice that Zephyr had only recently become familiar with.

“Welcome, friends, to round one,” Discord announced grandly. He made no appearance, but his words seemed to echo across the sky as though he were talking through a loudspeaker. “By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.” The voice went silent and the air seemed to normalize, but only for a moment. “Oh, and by the way,” Discord added, as if he’d forgotten something. “Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!” With that, the sky once again went silent.

Remembering what Discord had said earlier, he had a sick feeling about what “clear victor” meant. I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it, he told himself. He began flapping his wings at a steady tempo and took flight.

On the other end of the battlefield, Fire Weaver wasted no time descending into the crater after Discord’s announcement. Using a small flicker of his fiery orange magic, he activated the box-like grappling hook on his right foreleg and snared one of the sickly trees below to carefully slide down the steep rock on his ash-grey hooves. Weaver landed easily on his hooves, the black chainmail of his vest chinking slightly.

The unicorn blew a few stray locks of his low-hanging burning red-orange mane out of his deep brown eyes, already analyzing the battlefield. Not bad, he decided. The trees are mostly dead, meaning they’ll go up quickly. The lake I saw was boiling, and the air is warm from the steam. Plenty of heat to use.

His left eyebrow furrowed, but what remained of his right (the half that survived a long ago mishap with a fire spell) only slanted a little. A crater lake with dying trees and boiling water though, that can only mean one thing. This crater is one big volcano, waiting to blow.

Being inside an active caldera did not thrill Fire Weaver, but neither did being caught in the open near the outside of the main battlefield. Keeping that in mind, Weaver moved quickly and carefully to the left where the dying trees were denser. As a Cursor to the Crown, his first instinct was to disappear into his surroundings to seek and observe his target from stealth.

Fire Weaver made sure to keep the tree line nearest the lake in sight at all times as he picked his way through the overgrowth. Over half of the trees had sickly yellow leaves clinging to their branches with many more lacking any leaves at all.

Being a Cursor, Celestia’s eyes and ears, Weaver by necessity had learned to observe everything in his surroundings. Even so, it was only by chance that he caught sight of his opponent. Catching movement from above, he scanned the skies until he noticed a fast-moving blot of grey and black moving separately from the gloomy clouds above.

Closer inspection revealed that the blot was actually a pegasus flying a few hundred feet in the air. The pony’s flight made it clear they were searching the ground for something. Three guesses what that is, Fire Weaver thought, already lining up his aim.

From above, Zephyr scanned the woods for signs of life. He’d already circled half the crater searching the woods and found nothing. If he didn’t see his opponent by the time he completed the circuit, he’d have to improvise. He sharply banked his flight to continue his path around the crater.

A burning ray whizzed by from somewhere behind him and he spun, startled. His eyes scoured the woods until they came to a rest on a unicorn. “There you are,” he said, moving closer.

In a moment of panic, Weaver lit his horn again and fired another ray without aiming. The shot was a rushed, weak thing that went wide of its target, but Zephyr dodged violently in the other direction in surprise. The motion unbalanced him for a second and he lost sight of his foe.

Fire Weaver took off further into the woods, hoping to put some distance between them before he was spotted again.

Despite the trees, it only took Zephyr a few seconds to spot him. The foliage was thin and the unicorn’s fiery red hair was one of the few things visibly moving through the woods. Rather than take a fast, aggressive dive at his target, Zephyr flew directly above him and lowered his altitude to about ten feet.

Hearing wingbeats overhead, Weaver looked straight up to see a pair of crystal blue eyes staring coolly back at him. “I don’t suppose we can talk a little before we start fighting?” their owner asked in an amicable (if slightly annoyed) tone. Zephyr knew it was foolish, but his adoptive father Doc had raised him to be polite.

Fire Weaver pulled to a stop and eyed his opponent warily. Uncomfortable with how close his rival had gotten, he nodded slowly. Zephyr glided downward to land a few feet in front of him.

The pegasus was lean and muscular like a sprinter or other athlete. Weaver himself was fairly trim and wiry, but being shorter and slimmer, he didn’t like his odds in a brawl.

Zephyr smiled and stuck out his hoof. “I’m Zephyr. Nice to meet you.”

Weaver searched Zephyr’s face for an ulterior motive. It was one of those open, honest faces you couldn’t afford to have as a Cursor. “Fire Weaver,” he replied, refusing to shake.

Zephyr chuckled. “Fire Weaver, huh? Well I bet I can guess how you’ll be fighting,” he said cheerfully as he eyed the blazing flame adorning his opponent’s flank.

Weaver began mentally kicking himself for his stupidity. Idiot! he inwardly cursed. He opened his mouth to attempt a counter, but Zephyr cut him off.

“My thing is storms,” he continued. “Making them, breaking them, or even just having them around.”

The unicorn’s jaw dropped. “Why would you tell me that?!” he demanded, confused. “You just gave up an edge in the fight!”

“I was hoping to avoid a fight,” Zephyr admitted. “Just because Discord wants a battle to the death doesn’t mean we have to give him one. At the very least, we could try to keep this a clean, bloodless fight.”

Weaver’s hoof automatically went to his chest, where his Cursor coin hung as a medallion beneath his vest. The promise he’d made on it rang in his ears, and he knew he couldn’t agree. I have to win, no matter what, he told himself.

“Can’t do that, Zephyr,” he said bluntly. “I can’t afford to lose, and you heard what Discord said. I may not like violence, but I will kill you if that’s what it takes.”

Zephyr’s smile faltered before vanishing altogether. “Fair enough,” was his only response. He crouched into a battle posture, wings extended. “Ready when you are,” he said, stone-faced.

Though Fire Weaver’s answer had disappointed him, Zephyr was not terribly surprised. What did you expect? he asked himself. In truth, he wasn’t sure what his own answer would have been. But was he willing to kill for what he wanted?

The unicorn took his own readied stance, and Zephyr could no longer spare thought for the issue. Instead, he took a long, deep breath to steady himself and waited patiently for his adversary’s move. Weaver’s horn lit up with a fiery glow, and Zephyr sprang into motion.

Zephyr pounced diagonally to the right of his opponent. Fire Weaver had been expecting a direct charge because a ray of fire, thicker and hotter than the first, came streaming out directly ahead of him and missed Zephyr by matter of inches. The pegasus’s move carried him even with his foe on the left. He spun in the air and angled himself so he faced the unicorn as his hooves landed flatly on the side of a nearby tree.

Fire Weaver was already turning when Zephyr hit the tree. His ray followed the tilt of his head, leaving a thin band of burnt vegetation in its wake as it pursued its mark. Zephyr sprang again much faster, aiming himself at the unicorn’s undefended left side. He made it inside Weaver’s range and used his left wing to scythe his foe’s back legs out from underneath him mid-turn. The resulting fall caused the ray to sputter and vanish, but not before its arc seared off the last few inches of Zephyr’s tail.

Zephyr planted his hooves on another tree on the other side of his fallen opponent, but this time he shot upwards and began flapping his wings in earnest. Weaver’s gaze followed him carefully as the unicorn rose from the ground, already preparing another spell. Rather than wait to find out what it was, Zephyr flew a wide arc before descending in order to strike his opponent from a new direction. Weaver caught a glimpse of his approach and took shelter behind a thick tree, forcing Zephyr to fly right past. Before he could come around for another attack, Weaver’s horn pulsed and a small ball of flame went whizzing over his right shoulder from behind.

Between one heartbeat and the next, it grew from the size of a pea to that of a bowling ball and appeared to still be growing. Zephyr’s pupils shrank in alarm and he veered sharply left just as the orb exploded in the air. A blast of fire engulfed everything within twenty feet, setting large sections of the woods ablaze. Zephyr was fast enough to escape the worst of the attack, but the force of the explosion knocked him to the ground.

The pegasus rose on unsteady legs and looked back at the site of the explosion. Dry and rotten as many of the trees were, there was still a rather thick smoke coming from them. However, even as Zephyr watched the fire began spreading outward and the trees in the very center of the blast had already charred and burnt themselves out.

This whole crater is a matchbox! he realized with horror. He saw Fire Weaver preparing to launch another spell at him. Scrambling to evade it, Zephyr pumped his wings furiously and flew low to the ground off to one side.

Weaver cast his Fire Blast spell at Zephyr a second time, but succeeded only in igniting another chunk of the forest. A third and fourth explosion kept him skirting around instead of approaching. However, he didn’t take another hit like the first and didn’t mind letting Weaver know it. “It is me you’re aiming at, right?” Zephyr taunted.

“Stop flying away and find out!” Weaver retorted, launching another burning missile. Fire Weaver was growing frustrated by his inability to land a solid blow. He’s too bloody fast, even with all these trees in his way, Weaver thought. I’ve got to stop his movement somehow.

Zephyr’s speed wasn’t his only problem, however. He was running out of woods fairly rapidly as the flames spread from each explosion. Weaver had already ignited a large semicircle around himself, and a few more blasts would close most of what was left. The fires were spreading in every direction and would soon tighten the noose of burning vegetation around him.

Weaver sent another explosion out, but a sudden inspiration struck him and he prepared a different spell. While he gathered the energy for the move he had in mind, he scanned the remaining open and unburnt woods for a sturdy tree trunk and leveled his grappling hook at it. Alright Zephyr, try dodging this, he thought smugly.

Sensing a halt in the barrage of fireballs, Zephyr angled himself back towards Fire Weaver and flew as fast as he dared. The unicorn’s horn was aglow and he’d raised the hoof with the small white box on it. Zephyr didn’t know what it was until the hoof clenched and a barbed metal object shot directly at him out of the front.

Zephyr only barely barrel-rolled out of the way as the grappling hook and its dark cable flew past him to thunk into some distant tree. Before he’d fully recovered, Weaver streaked past him through the air, even giving a grin and a little wave as he passed by.

Once he was clear, Weaver unleashed his spell. A wall of fire ten feet high leapt up from the earth between him and Zephyr, closing the circle of flames around the pegasus. The strain of creating the wall and maintaining it had Weaver panting, but he only held it for a few seconds. As expected, the flames had hungrily taken hold of the nearby trees and rendered them just as impassable as his wall of fire would have.

“Got you now, speedy,” he muttered, grinning wolfishly. His horn lit again, but this time was different. Heat from the nearby fires began coursing through him as his magic siphoned it out. Normally this would have diminished them, but the abundance of fuel kept the flames hot and spreading. A few more seconds, and Weaver began readying what he hoped would be a finishing blow.

Inside the burning ring, Zephyr had maybe fifty feet he could fly in any direction and knew that would disappear fast even if his opponent didn’t feel like helping it along. He tried flying up and out of the enclosure, but the rising heat and smoke forced him to abandon that plan almost instantly. “Ponyfeathers!” he swore as he landed, racking his brains for an escape.

When he landed, Zephyr felt cool mud under his hooves. Remembering something he’d read about insulating oneself from flames, he threw himself bodily into the mud and wallowed. He’d managed to thoroughly muddy his wings, face, legs and chest before it happened.

A flickering torch appeared on the ground in right front of Zephyr. It immediately surged outward in every direction to cover the ground. Zephyr leapt from the mud to a low hover as the wave of fire engulfed most of the remaining unburnt area. The flames seemed unnatural to Zephyr, and when they pulsed brightly for no apparent reason his pupils shrank in terror. Closing his eyes, he flung himself as fast as he could towards the outer ring.

Before he cleared the strange burning circle, it erupted into a bright orange column of billowing flames. Zephyr felt searing heat on his flank as the pillar incinerated what remained of the hair on his tail and burned the nearby flesh. The mud managed to protect him from any further injury as he barreled out of the burning woods.

Fire Weaver winced despite himself as his Flamestrike spell rose over a hundred feet into the sky. He let out a breath that was only partially from guilt. Even with the assistance of the burning woods, that spell and the many before it had taken their toll on his magical reserves. If his opponent was still alive after that attack, Weaver either needed to finish him or escape and recuperate.

He decided the second option was safer and fled away from the flames as a steaming muddy pegasus haphazardly burst out of them. Fire Weaver triggered his grappling hook and began zipping through the woods as fast as the cable would carry him.

Zephyr saw him retreat but chose not to pursue. Instead, he took a moment to shake off the mud. His flank and lower back still stung from their burns, but he ignored them. Satisfied that he’d removed as much of the mud as he had time for, he took to the sky to deal with the fire still raging behind him. The flames were still spreading and he couldn’t afford to have all that smoke in the air.

The air above the crater was saturated with moisture and full of low, heavy clouds. Zephyr moved several to the leading edge of the burning circle and pounded them vigorously, creating a downpour. It wasn’t enough to put the fires out, but it did beat back the flames and saturate the woods beyond. The trees already caught in the blaze would burn themselves out without spreading any further into the crater.

Tired of playing hide-and-seek in the thick woods, Zephyr flew over the lake and well ahead of where Fire Weaver had escaped to. There, his flight became tight, concentric circles. Faster and faster he went and the rotations slowly got larger. In short order, Zephyr’s wingbeats were the engines of a twister twenty feet tall. He made his circles ever wider and began descending towards the ground.

By the time he was satisfied, the tornado had tripled in height and finally touched down beneath the trees. Limbs and bushes were already getting sucked in and the crack of many strained trunks and roots rang out below. After ensuring it would go in the proper direction, Zephyr bailed out of the twister and flew out over the lake. The tornado, however, moved ponderously towards the billowing flames and the pony who’d set them.

Fire Weaver had determined what Zephyr was doing fairly quickly, but the size of the tornado still surprised him. “Are you kidding me?!” he yelled. Cursing under his breath, Weaver ran back towards the flames.

He had a few hundred yards of wooded area ahead of him, but he doubted very much the tornado would stop after that distance. With the angle it was traveling, Weaver realized Zephyr had only left him one option. Praying that one of the tunnels around the lake was close, he turned towards the crater’s center and made for the tree line. Once I’m out in the open, he’s not going to let up, Fire Weaver worried. If I can make it to one of those tunnels, I should have a chance. If I can’t… he didn’t want to finish the thought, but did so anyway. Then I lose any hope of saving Cursive Script. Preparing for an assault, he readied a spell as he ran.

When Weaver burst from the woods a short distance ahead of the cyclone, Zephyr was ready for him. He’d found an ugly black cloud and dragged it out to the rocky beach. The first bolt of lightning came crashing down harmlessly well ahead of the Cursor.

“And you made fun of my aim earlier?” Weaver shouted over his shoulder.

The pegasus snorted. “Not like I’m throwing explosions at you!” he retorted.

Zephyr flew the cloud closer and took careful aim before slamming his hooves solidly on the cloud. A thick, jagged shaft came hurtling at Fire Weaver, but the unicorn ducked his head just in time. Weaver felt his mane stand on end as the lightning split the air above his ears. A few errant sparks shocked him lightly as the bolt crashed into the ground next to him

One of the tunnel mouths gaped open thirty yards ahead, a strange blue glow emanating from within. Fire Weaver determined he could use his grappling hook to reach it faster. The Cursor pulled to a stop and leveled his hoof at his target and launched the hook.

Zephyr saw the motion and aimed as quickly as he could. His cloud only had one weak shot left, but when he fired it the lightning flew straight and true. To his chagrin, Zephyr had failed to strike the unicorn even though he was wearing a metal chainmail vest.

The grappling hook was not so lucky.

The bolt caught the cable as it yanked Fire Weaver toward the tunnel and followed it back to the device on his hoof. There were sparks as the firing and retracting mechanisms died, but the momentum he already had carried him to the opening. He sprained his left foreleg as he tumbled down into the glowing opening. Struggling to his hooves, Weaver disconnected his grappling hook and dragged himself further into the cave.

The tunnel was spacious, almost eight feet wide and tall. Luminescent veins of blue ran through the rocky walls and lichen covered the bare stone. In a few places, crystals erupted from the veins in jagged clusters that gave off a noticeable heat.

Fire Weaver reached into his vest and pulled out a crystal of his own. It was smaller than an apple, and a red fire glowed within. It was a weaker version of his Fire Blast spell, but still packed a punch and could easily fill the cave mouth. He tossed it near the entrance to land next to one of the tunnel’s queer blue formations.

Outside, Zephyr had flown closer to the tunnel entrance. He really didn’t want to enter such confined space with his pyromaniac opponent, but it was marginally better than dense woods. Mind made up, he sped towards the opening. He slowed before entering to accommodate the angle, and it was fortunate he did.

As soon as Fire Weaver saw Zephyr near the opening, he used a flicker of magic to ignite the fire crystal. Its detonation shattered the glowing blue stone beside it to trigger a second explosion at the same time. Fire lurched outwards with a blast strong enough to blow Zephyr back from the tunnel and scorch Weaver’s remaining eyebrows clean off. Rather than end there, a series of smaller detonations followed the blue veins near the rock up to the natural ceiling and another crystal. This one exploded as well, sending shards whizzing by Weaver’s face and bringing rock down from above to completely block the opening.

Surprised but grateful for the reprieve, Fire Weaver limped further into the warm, glowing tunnel. The crystals and their veins became thicker as he went deeper, and the passage seemed to be taking him under the lake. They were hot to the touch and, oddly enough, smelled faintly of blueberries. I think this stuff is magma! he realized. Already, an idea was forming. Grinning a little, he pulled several more fire crystals from his vest.

Zephyr, meanwhile, was recovering from his latest injury. He was burnt and bruised, but he could still move normally for the most part. “I’m getting real tired of that,” he groaned, getting up. The tunnel entrance was sealed, so he would need to find another way in.

A brief flight took him to another opening in the rock with the same eerie blue glow as the last one. Zephyr flew straight in at a cautious pace, keeping to the ceiling as much as possible. The tunnel twisted to the right and towards the first one, but quickly turned back towards the center of the lake.

Fire Weaver had reached a large, cavernous area almost thirty feet tall and most of an acre wide. Several other tunnels emptied out into the chamber, with a couple being particularly close to his. Chunks of the blue magma, some as large as a pony, sprang from every surface.

Weaver set up his explosives near some of the entrances and the largest crystal formations before retreating into a passage he believed would go back to the surface. Trap set, he started taking in as much heat as he could stand with his magic and waited for Zephyr.

In his own tunnel, the pegasus could see the open chamber ahead as well as the multitude of blue crystals. Remembering his last encounter with it, he gritted his teeth and hoped he didn’t get caught at the entrance again. He retreated a short distance from the cavern and braced himself. Target this, Fire Weaver, he thought angrily as he leapt forward at a breakneck pace.

When Zephyr came racing into the chamber, Fire Weaver set off his trap. His first Fire Ray detonated a crystal directly in front of Zephyr and a nearby magma chunk, but the pegasus’s speed carried him right past the explosion before it could hit him.

Zephyr flew directly at the unicorn after dodging the initial explosion, but Weaver shot off four more rays in rapid succession. Each ray hit another of his explosives and took a few more magma crystals with them. Even at high speed, Zephyr was battered and buffeted from every direction by the nearest explosions. He came crashing down to the rock directly at Weaver’s hooves, struggling for breath. My ribs, he thought as they cracked in his chest.

Behind him, the explosions were rippling along through the blue veins and deeper into the earth. Rocks fell from the ceiling as several of the other tunnels collapsed. The ground trembled as each new section of magma detonated.

Fire Weaver looked down at Zephyr, panting. “I...I did it,” he rasped. His legs felt like jelly underneath him, and his whole body cried out for a rest after all his magic use. At his words, Zephyr stirred in protest but couldn’t seem to rise. “What’s the matter, Zephyr?” he jibed in exhaustion. “Didn’t your parents teach you not to play with fire?”

The movement was too fast to follow. Weaver found himself reeling in pain as a pegasus skull smashed into his muzzle. Stunned and bleeding, the Cursor stumbled back to see Zephyr standing on trembling legs and breathing heavily. “No...they didn’t,” Zephyr growled. “If I hadn’t...lost them...they might’ve gotten...to that.” He stood up straight and glared at Weaver, his blue eyes icy and cold.

Weaver’s pupils shrank as he realized that he was very much in trouble. Zephyr leapt at him, hooves swinging. Tired as he was, Weaver only managed to defend against the first few blows. Weaver felt several thumps against his chainmail and every hit he blocked with his left leg made it scream in pain.

Burnt and bruised, Zephyr’s limbs and body likewise begged for mercy, but the pain was distant in his anger. The floor gave a violent shake, putting Weaver off-balance. Seeing his opening, Zephyr dove low and came up with an uppercut that struck heavily on Weaver’s jaw. The Cursor collapsed, blood trickling from his mouth. His coin medallion was jostled out from under his vest to hang out visibly around his neck.

Anger having mostly played itself out, Zephyr stepped forward, put a hoof on Fire Weaver’s chest and stared into his fearful brown eyes. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said coldly, “but I’ll beat you senseless if I have to.”

Weaver coughed and strained against the hoof, but could barely move in his pain and fatigue. “I...can’t lose,” he gasped. “Have to...win.” His horn flickered slightly as he tried to release his stored heat. He couldn’t focus, however, and the flickers ceased.

Zephyr’s grim expression softened slightly. “I do too,” he said quietly. “I’ve lived my whole life wishing for the parents I’d lost. I thought I’d made my peace with it but…” His scowl returned. “I wouldn’t kill anypony for any reason, even to find them.” He lowered his face to Weaver’s. “So what’s my life worth to you?” he demanded.

Fire Weaver’s throat tightened as his hoof slowly went to the coin. “Cursive Script,” he replied. “She got hurt.” Tears welled up in his eyes as he recalled his beloved, missing a leg and lying in a coma. “My fault,” he choked. “Promised to do...anything.” In his sorrow, Weaver found the clarity he needed. His horn flared brightly to release his spell.

Fire Weaver’s skull erupted with pain as Zephyr’s grey hoof cracked down on his horn. He let out a scream of agony as it fractured near the tip and the magic fled his system unspent. His vision swam and finally went black. I’m sorry...Cursive. His head and limbs slumped as he fell unconscious.

“I warned you,” Zephyr said. Zephyr felt sick to his stomach after the strike. Doc would be ashamed of me, he thought sadly.

The explosions beneath the ground suddenly multiplied in strength, and the entire area shuddered and cracked. A deafening bang struck the air as the floor of the cavern split and gouts of molten blue rock spat out of the fissure. Time to go, he panicked. On the cavern roof, he saw a wooden door hanging open.

He took a few steps but paused, looking back at Fire Weaver. To win, I have to… “Horse apples!” he swore. Zephyr moved next to his fallen opponent and struggled to lift the unicorn onto his back. His legs bemoaned the extra weight and his burns shrieked in protest, but he eventually succeeded. I don’t care what the rules were, Zephyr decided, I’m not leaving him to die. Spreading his wings, he painstakingly managed to lift off and fly towards the exit.

Rocks fell all around him, and in some places the lake began pouring in through cracks. Weaver’s weight made it difficult to avoid these hazards, and Zephyr received several new bruises as he strained to reach the door. Almost...there. He put everything he had into those last few wingbeats. Just a few...more...feet.

They passed through the doorway just as his strength gave out and he fell in a tumble with Weaver. A massive explosion bellowed from behind, but was cut off as the door slammed safely shut and vanished.

Toy Story (Win)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Pratfall's fight? Decide who wins right here!

Toy Story (Win)

Toy Story

He smelled paper.

Nothing fanciful like the parchment he’d come to see more popularized in old-timey places like Canterlot and its surrounding towns, but dreadfully, utterly, completely boring old mass produced rectangles with no personality to them, no character to their sharp corners. The pegasus cast his harsh judgement of current equestrian writing surfaces before he set his eyes about the office room he had just entered.The stacks of paper set around the area went wonderfully with the stainless steel shelves and lifeless wooden desk. It seemed not long ago he was mingling with the god of chaos and mischief, making sure he’d had the rules of this interesting little competition down-pat.

The mauve pegasus darted his hyperactive little eyes all over the place, growing expediently bored with this room. He looked to the left, catching sight of a door with a small glass window, from which a view into a hallway illuminated by florescent light was visible. On his right however seemed to be a meters-thick door with the sign ‘Fire Door’ plastered so carefully to explain to the average dingus what a big door like that was used for.

He stared at the door briefly and had himself a chuckle. “Fire safety. What happens when a poor sod gets locked in here by himself?”

Images of screaming, burning, dancing ponies echoed through his head and he allowed himself a morbid laugh at the idea before proceeding through the opposite door into the hallway. What he hadn’t heard, what the door on his end wound up masking as he opened it, was the click and whine of hinges of another door swinging open.

The hallway wasn’t very long. He had a fantastic view of iridescent golden scales, and black spines, black wings. White, curved horns and two silvery, glinting, narrowing eyes.

And billowing nostrils…

And a mouthful of jagged ivory daggers turning a blank expression into a malevolent greeting.

“Well you aren’t ugly at all!” Pratfall said cheerfully, “I’m Pratfall!”

“Kakumei,” the dragon replied shortly.

Kakumei was clearly in her teens, standing at maybe a few or more feet above her younger kin. Her body was sleek, muscles were visible in her arms and legs yet, for the most part, she looked faster than most of her peers. For what little that meant, given that dragons carried more weight around than ponies all the time. The black of her wings and spines extended down her belly and the spines decorating her head and running down her back and over the tail were curved dangerously like saw blades.

“That’s a dumb name, but hey, before we get started? Wanna hear a funny joke?”

Kakumei’s silence was telling. As was her deep inhalation.

“What did the ugly stupid dragon say to the handsome hilarious pegasus?”

Kakumei’s next breath wasn’t wasted on words. Instead, she opened her mouth and unleashed hell, a torrent of white-hot flame jetting straight for Pratfall.

The pegasus blinked and turned tail, flapping his wings desperately before the fire could singe a single orange hair on his spiky little ‘do. He tumbled back into the office and managed to slam the door on the approaching hot death. Glass shards fell as a stream of flame blasted the window above away, melting it as it went. Pratfall hissed at the errant superheated shards landing on his coat.

As he locked the door, he muttered to himself, annoyed at his own delivery. Of course the joke didn’t go like that! He was supposed to ask what the pegasus said and pull out his trusty liquid nitrogen bottle and blast her with it. And say ‘freeze’ right after.

Pratfall would annoy himself with that failure later. He didn’t need to look back to know Kakumei was coming and now Discord’s game was in full swing. Adrenaline coursed through his body, and little goosebumps pricked the skin beneath his fur. Kakumei was a live audience member, and Pratfall wasn’t about to let her go unentertained.

He opened the fire door, heaving with all his strength. It was much heavier than he had anticipated, and by the time he had pried it open a great crashing and splintering at the wooden door clued him into the fact that Kakumei was on his heels.

Pratfall managed to edge the door open enough to turn his body to the side and squeeze through. As he did so, he caught sight of the gold dragon approaching. She came toward him with an unflinching, silent walk, the grin from earlier turned into a scowl.

“Coward! Get back out here!” She snarled, lunging for door that nearly closed on her fingers had she not wisely retracted her arm when Pratfall slammed the fire door and bolted it from the other end.

“Coward!” The shout was muted from the other end of the door. Pratfall paid it no heed as he slid down the surface, eyes closed and panting and chortling at the same time. This was going to be so much fun!

“Oh...I’ll have to take my time with you…” he huffed with a blissful grin. Killing Kakumei would be a slow and enjoyable affair. Pratfall would use every trick in the book. And before the fire in her silvery eyes was snuffed out, she’d laugh for him. Or beg for her life. Both seemed like satisfying outcomes.

When Pratfall opened his eyes, he was greeted with a sight he would have begged for as a colt. Toys lined the shelves wall to wall. Playsets were spread out left and right, including the old Castle of the Two Sisters! So many dollhouses and action figures and this and that and—

The whole spread took on an eerie quality when he realized he was a very, very miniscule fraction of his own size. And that even as he stood upon what looked like the surface of a table, that everything around towered over him like the massive skyscrapers back home in Manehattan.

A spike of anger plucked at him briefly when his eyes caught sight of a rubber chicken laying some fifty yards away. He was instantly reminded of the factory…

...and the door behind him was warning him of the smell of burning rubber. Or steel as it were. Kakumei was blasting the door with her hot halitosis, looking to get in the old fashioned way. Pratfall, had his annoyance not have been triggered by the rubber chicken, would have given her points for effort and then taken them back for a lack of subtlety. The room itself, lit by more conventional electric light bulbs hidden behind shades, wound up darkening as if in response to his bout of emotion.

Pratfall spread his wings and flew up, pulling a colorful length from his saddlebag with a wing and heading toward a hook above.

\—D—/

Kakumei slammed her foot into the door once, denting the steel and leaving her four-toed imprint at least six inches deep. She did it once more and the hot, glowing fire door flew off the hinges, landing several feet away on the table. Stepping in, she scanned the immediate area for the fool pegasus. He’d done himself a disservice for proving himself as worthless as the rest of ponykind, running at the sight of danger. Kakumei was at least inclined to respect an opponent who would battle her properly.

The realization that she had stepped into a massive toy room at a miniscule size caused her to snort in disbelief. This was Discord’s entertainment. To expect anything less would have just been ignorance on her part. And Kakumei was no fool. Why it was so dark when she could see the soft lights on the walls was confusing though. What was Pratfall up to?

At that moment, a blue handkerchief dangled in front of her.

“Hmph,” she said, grasping the handkerchief. “Get down from there.”

Kakumei yanked, but felt an unyielding presence on the other end of the tied handkerchief, secured to more of its colorful ilk with knots and tied to a hook above.

Before she could react, a round metal object was pressed against her back, crackling and sparking with electricity. Kakumei cried out as hundreds of volts ran through her body, frying her nerves and blurring her vision with tears of agony before it all came to a stop just as suddenly. It didn’t stop there. A pair of hooves slammed into the back of her head with a dull thud that sent the dragoness stumbling forward.

With her senses scrambled, it was easy for Pratfall to move around her with a beat of his wings. Darting in and still hovering, he drilled Kakumei’s stomach with a pair of whirling kicks. She gasped, doubling over and grimacing; this hadn’t been how she imagined the fight going up close.

The pegasi’s right forehoof came gunning for her chin in an uppercut, but found itself in the grip of a much stronger, clawed hand. Pratfall blinked, Kakumei bringing her face close to his. Her mouth threatened to come apart halfway when she grinned. The attack was unexpected, but exactly what she needed. Pratfall’s hooves provided an exciting wake-up call for her. Now the fight had begun.

“What did the electrocuted dragon say to the dead pegasus?” Kakumei questioned.

Pratfall tilted his head to one side. “Hm... Don’t tell me...I know this one…”

Kakumei pulled back slightly on one leg, lifting the other to slam her foot into his stomach. The blow sent him flying and skipping across the table like a stone over water, right over the edge.

“Bye.”

\—D—/

Pratfall could feel something wrench in his gut. It was painful and may have been agitated after the near-story level drop from the table into a cardboard box full of blocks and other assorted assembly pieces.

The hurt exploded from his middle and up out his mouth in a small gob of red. Pratfall coughed, blood spattering the plastic surrounding him.

“What a...ah ha ha...punch line…”

\—D—/

Kakumei took a deep breath. The first encounter was intense, which meant that she had to keep up the pressure lest he be allowed enough time for another setup. Kakumei flapped her wings and took to the air, speeding toward where her foe had fallen from. Descending slowly, she noted with some amusement that he was already gone.

Red flecks left a trail, leading from a particularly bloody splotch against a simple four-peg block. Kakumei’s teeth became a gleaming zipper curving upwards. It was time to see what Pratfall was made of.

What the draconic female had thought she expected still managed to surprise her all the same. Pratfall waved at her from atop a column of blocks with interesting geometry. Some were simple bars of four segments, others shaped into L’s and zigzags and the occasional three-segmented block with that one weird additional piece in the center.

Nearby, a toy crane continued to drop pieces haphazardly into the wall. Kakumei squinted and noticed it was a creature made of some sort of...ethereal light. She couldn’t quite put her claw on what it was, though it was definitely equine-shaped. A loud whistle brought her attention back to the pegasus letting his hind legs dangle over the edge of an L-block.

“Yoo-hoo! Kakumei! It’s getting quite lonely at the top, could you bring me some company?” Pratfall’s airy tone annoyed the scales off of her. Kakumei’s eyes snapped back toward him with a scowl.

“The top isn’t big enough for the two of us.” She flew in his direction, taking another deep breath through her nostrils to roast the prankster pegasus.

Pratfall simply looked up and shouted to the ethereal pony in the crane, “Now!”

Where Kakumei had landed, a shadow appeared beneath her. She looked up to see one of the peculiarly shaped, upside-down “T” blocks coming her way. Kakumei barely avoided the toy brick, filling in a gap on the multicolored road to her foe. Pratfall waved at her from afar, incensing her.

“Again!” he shouted, not taking his eyes off the dragon, his tail swishing eagerly as he sat on his haunches like a colt waiting for hearth’s warming gifts.

Another plastic thunk behind Kakumei occurred, and she couldn’t help the laugh jumping out of her mouth. “You and your collaborators have the worst aim possible.” She took one step in his direction, wings spreading open once more.

The threatening step was met with a blast of cool, icy liquid spreading across the surface of their battleground. The blocks became glacial instantaneously, causing Kakumei to slip and fall, landing on her back. Pratfall laughed as if someone had told a great joke, throwing his head back in his mirth and tossing the small empty bottle of liquid nitrogen away. “Who said I was collaborating? I just wanted to watch you dance around those silly blocks. Speaking of which—”

Pratfall flapped his wings, speeding straight for Kakumei. The dragon bellowed flames at him once more, which he pulled out of the way of with a barrel roll. He closed with her to twirl around in midair, pulling his shock buzzer out once more. Slamming the button against Kakumei’s back, Pratfall electrocuted her again, forcing another cry of pain from his opponent.

Kakumei cursed herself as she felt her wings seize up and her knees buckle from the kicks Pratfall threw into the back of them. The slippery, multicolored surface made falling to her fours impossible and, the next thing she knew, the side of her face was resting on ice. The shock had caused her senses to dip dramatically, and her head swam, only vaguely aware of another block dropping in the line by the gears of the crane, and the thud of heavy plastic.

What happened next, Kakumei couldn’t quite understand until it was all over. Every single block from the floor up had disappeared in a flash of light the moment the last one was dropped. The dragoness fell from high up, heading straight for the floor with no way to pull up. Kakumei’s body smacked the hardwood floor below, and, like power shutting down, she blacked out.

\—D—/

Pratfall landed gracefully, avoiding the shattered shards of ice underhoof as he sashayed over to the prone dragon lying face flat against the ground. He stopped in front of her and leaned his head down.

“Remember when you hit me earlier?” His voice had changed drastically, the airheaded joviality replaced by a sinister snarl. “You’re gonna pay for that.”

Pulling the length of handkerchief from his bag o’ tricks once more, he looped it over Kakumei’s neck, tying the knot nice and tight. He then flew up to the hook where the the crane had dropped those blocks into that disappearing wall from moments ago and stuck the other end of the chromatic rope onto it. He gave a small salute to the shade operating the machine and touched back down, the smile lighting his face completely at odds with the hateful tone with which he spoke to his unconscious opponent.

\—D—/

The first thing she had felt upon waking up was an increased pressure on her throat. Breathing was so difficult as to be a non-entity to her now. The notion of which only caused Kakumei to open her eyes and notice she had been dangling from high up. Opening her eyes, she first saw her clawed feet, dangling high above the hardwood floor. Kakumei grunted and moved to get free, but found that her arms had been bound behind her back. Further experimentation told her that her wings were immobilized, held in place by some kind of sticky substance.

Of course, she didn’t need to look far to see the culprit. Pratfall was sitting pretty in a makeshift castle made of blocks built up high enough for him to have a view of his captive. The pegasus winked at her as her body turned toward him. “I thought you’d never wake up! Goodness, don’t you know better than to go sawing logs in the middle of entertaining a guest?” He put a hoof to his muzzle, adopting a thoughtful look. “Or maybe I’m entertaining you. In which case, would you like a snack?”

Saving every breath her lungs could hold, Kakumei merely glared.

“You’re looking pretty hungry. I’ve got just the thing though.”

Pratfall dug into his bag of tricks and pulled out a trigger-operated mechanism; a spring loaded boxing glove. “Have a knuckle sandwich, on the house.”

He stuck his hoof into the large ring and pulled. The glove felt like lead when it hit—hell it probably was made of lead—slamming into Kakumei’s stomach and forcing the rest of the air from her body. She sputtered and coughed under the pressure of the chromatic rope choking her. Pratfall retracted the device by pulling the trigger in the opposite direction.

Her tormentor giggled to himself like a schoolfilly. “Here, have another!”

Another press and the leaden glove pummeled her in the face with a painful crunch, blackening one of her eyes and giving her a significant headache. Kakumei briefly wondered if the orbital bone was broken, but tried to focus herself. Pratfall’s whimsy was her pain, so it wasn’t the most inefficient method of winning. He wasn’t dallying with speech without action like the few who could get the advantage over Kakumei this quickly.

The dragoness opened her mouth for the next “knuckle sandwich” sent her way.

“...oh my goodness, I haven’t seen a mare open that wide for me in—hey! Let go!”

Less concerned with the fact that her teeth had survived the contact with nigh-impossible timing, Kakumei grinned over the glove. A searing heat fwooshed over the spring loaded contraption in the form of another blast of white-hot hell approaching Pratfall.

He flapped his wings urgently, looking to put as much distance between him and the wreck of his little toy and was graced with the tongue of hot flames licking at his flesh once more. Pratfall yowled as he pulled back his forehooves from the fifty-foot flame he cleared himself of.

“I...that’s. Not...funny.” Pratfall’s malevolence took on the guttural tone once more. The pegasus glared furiously at a Kakumei who, even with her bruised up face, managed to effect more of a feeling of victory than Pratfall himself at the moment..

The gunk holding her wrists together wasn’t so tough when she managed to lift her legs and bring her arms up in front of her. A moment’s glance was all it took to tell her it was putty. Plain and grey and susceptible to the little stream of superheated air she blew through her teeth at it. A crack appeared in the space between her wrists and she managed to snap the restraints off with ease. Fanning her fingers before clenching them into fists and reaching back to draw a claw through where the base of her wings had been sealed up, Kakumei freed herself. “Your friend in the crane seems to think so.” She smirked, a clawed finger pointing up at the crane’s window.

Pratfall’s eyes flashed dangerously as he snapped his gaze upward to the creature, the guffawing shade. It hadn’t much in the way of facial details, but the motions of its body looked rather mirthful, doubling over at the controls with all the grace of one engaged in a hearty belly laugh.

“You’re fired,” the pegasus murmured to the shape, fully aware the shape was never working for him in the first place. He snapped his eyes back down to Kakumei. “And you… Time out. I’m taking a break.”

Pratfall turned and flapped his wings, intent on getting as much distance as he could from the dragon for a second time.

\—D—/

Stupid, foolish pegasus pony.

Kakumei’s hot maw blew another hot plume of fire toward him, just to cow him into another maneuver. This was starting to get exciting. The life of such a court jester, such a moron in her claws. As if he hadn’t understood the superior species was guaranteed to win this fight. As if he hadn’t known that dragons were the rightful masters of the world. The golden dragon grinned, and chased her prey into the next room.

Instead of getting caught off-guard this time by another handkerchief, she entered the room with a large blast of fire. With her maw as wide as she could make it, the wooden door was reduced to kindling by the time she had crossed the threshold. And in front of her was a long, black scorch mark.

Kakumei blinked. This wasn’t another toy room. This was...an arena of some sort? Odd looking kart-like objects of all colors sat haphazardly around the clean floor, illuminated by the caged fluorescent lights overhead. She looked around, apparently now floating above a narrow catwalk leading to another door. But where Pratfall was in this mess, she’d have to search to find out.

She folded her wings and set her feet gently upon the catwalk.

Which promptly collapsed under her weight.

\—D—/

“Bahahahaha!” Floating over the wreckage of steel bridge was Pratfall, cackling at the toy he’d used to pull the screws from the foundations keeping it up. That plastic screwdriver he’d managed to pick up from the other room while the slow dragon was out cold was more useful than whoever made it was credited for.

He pushed the obvious lump in the remains of the wreck aside, uncovering a dazed dragonseated in a blue bumper car. Pratfall settled into the roomy little ride with a safe amount of space between him and Kakumei. What was the best pun for this?

You got screwed!

Looks like you had a few screws loose?

The simplest was the best of course! Pratfall figured, strapping the buzzer to his foreleg again, and turning to smile at the stirring dragon. “Nice of you to drop in!”

Kakumei’s face ran a gamut of expressions before settling carefully on not amused. She opened her mouth to voice her opinion of the pun, or maybe to do something incredibly painful. Pratfall was sure the two were one in the same. He was already moving one of his hooves over to her in that same moment though. The shock buzzer pressed against her belly, and she cried out again before he jabbed her in the throat, delaying the fire for a few more seconds while she coughed smoke.

Pratfall strapped her into the car by the chains of the seat—most curious changes from seatbelts, but then again, so were the white lights turning a rather ominous shade of red. He couldn’t lie. He was rather giddy about the next part. There was a bag full of tricks he still had left.

\—D—/

Stupid, foolish arrogant dragon.

Kakumei growled internally at herself as she watched the whimsical pegasus pony fly up and out of the seat. As much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t bad. At taking advantage of others’ idiocy, that is. He was still an idiot, but a clever one, for sure.

THUMP.

Kakumei’s snout hit the wheel in front of her as her head was slingshotted forward from the impact behind. Another bumper car crashed into the front, whipping her head backward against the edge of the seat. By the time she was able to blink the moisture in her eyes away from the pain in her snout, she came to see the floor was alive with shades in different bumper cars, all knocking each other back and forth.

It didn't take long for the destruction derby to sweep her up. Kakumei's cart went spinning from a hard slam to the side, and another came at her head-on, the velocity whipping her head back on impact. Shades continued to knock Kakumei's cart around left and right while Pratfall was nowhere to be seen.

Some glue here... light this on fire...

And in no time, Pratfall was wheeling toward Kakumei with his kart done up as an ice cream truck with a flaming strawberry scoop on top. “Anypony got a sweet tooth?” He grinned, hefting another spring loaded device. This one loaded with, of all things, an ice skate boot.

The vast majority of the floor parted, leaving a disoriented dragon sitting with her head bowed against her wheel.

Pratfall wheeled his kart into position, some feet away but ready to complete this vehicular homicide and make a choco-banana dragon split. He revved the kart, making the little engine growl for all it was worth. The challenging noises of the kart in front of her caused Kakumei to perk up. She looked up to him, and, as foreign the mechanics of the object she sat in were, she ventured at the contraption's controls anyway. Her fingers wrapped over the steering wheel. She eyed the display in front of her. Yes, there was the wheel, but there were also the pedals nearby her feet. Hazarding guess, she pressed down on the left and shot forward, startled by the sudden whip crack of her head back once again.

One more threatening rev later and Pratfall was speeding toward her, laughing like a madman.

The head-on collision was imminent. Kakumei, for all she'd suffered, figured she could give some small credit to Pratfall for giving her a measure of trouble. Not as much a worthy opponent as say...a pain in her tail. Which was as close as a compliment as she could allow herself.

In the final moments of their approach, she got one last good look at the pegasus. Seeing the gleam of mirthful malice in his eyes and the manic grin on his face drew pity from the dragon. He was a jester. A joke. Though the element of surprise had given him a steady lead, there was no doubt that in all-out combat, Kakumei had the upper hand. But he was clever. She would give him that.

'Alas, Pratfall... Playtime is over.' Kakumei's own mouth became a daggermouth hook, returning the expression on her opponent's face.

She breathed once more, having regained enough wind back for an inhalation. Fire melted the chains over her, and she broke free, wings flapping upward to carry her out of the cart. Simultaneously, Pratfall disappeared from his own vehicle, ascending on the seat from a metal spring and leaving it behind with his own wingbeat.

The two combatants approached each other in mid-air while their respective rides came together in a fiery explosion, lighting up the entire arena. With expressions of pure bloodlust, Kakumei and Pratfall threw simultaneous punches, forelegs catching dragon fists and vice versa. Locked in one final struggle, one that would be decided easily by the difference in strength, Pratfall's face fell when he realized both of his hooves were empty.

He blinked a few times while Kakumei's grin grew wider. “This is where your tale ends, pony.”

From between her legs, the spiny appendage swung up, the electrical buzzer that the prankster had used so much coming up to press itself against a leg.

“Not b—”

Pratfall could always appreciate a good joke. Even when it was tearing through his nerves and frying through fur and flesh and cutting him off in mid-compliment. The pegasus screamed and convulsed in midair, before his wings lost their feeling along with the rest of him, but a hand over his throat did not allow him to drop. Not yet.

“What did the electrocuted pegasus say to his dragon superior?”

Pratfall's eyes, wide from the rather painful experience could only look on in horror. Kakumei smiled in turn.

Her maw opened one last time, and the plume of flames that greeted Pratfall was the last thing he'd ever see.

She roasted Pratfall down to a crisp before breaking off a small piece of the ear. Popping the part of his head in her mouth, Kakumei chewed a few moments before deciding it tasted funny.

Not moments later did the room shift entirely. The shades left their carts and began clearing them away, sweeping and cleaning the area—which seemed to be getting smaller and smaller...or was Kakumei getting bigger? In no time, she became fully sized, and the door to where she’d entered was no longer closed, but filled with a beckoning white light. Kakumei took her leave, crushing toys and shades underfoot.

The Last Laugh (Loss)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Kakumei's fight? Decide who wins right here!

The Last Laugh (Loss)

The Last Laugh

“So, heard this one before? What’s brown and sticky? ...give up? A stick! Guehahahaha!”

Stony silence replied as his laughter died.

“Right right, that’s an old one… Well, let’s see. How about this: What’s orange and sounds like a parrot? Come on, this is easy! Time’s up! A carrot! Huehahahaha!”

Again, silence. Now he was beginning to get frustrated.

“Grrr… OK. How about: What do you get when you cross a chicken farm with a stick of dynamite? An eggsplosion! Yuehahahaha!”

For the third time, the pitch black, stoney room remained silent, dulling the roaring of Pratfall’s laughter at his own jokes. He stopped, turned, then bucked the wall several times, crying, “It’s. Comedy. Gold. Why. Don’t. You. Laugh!”

He bucked again and again until he felt his legs begin to burn, forcing him to stop. He fell to his haunches, sweat matting the short spikes of his mane, his chest heaving. Soon, between breaths, he began laughing uncontrollably.

“But the biggest joke...there’s nopony here to laugh! Heheheheeheahahaheh!”

As his heart slowed and his breathing returned to normal, Pratfall was about to launch into his encore routine—it slayed the audience every time—when the darkness surrounding him broke. First a tiny slit of light stabbed his eye painfully, then his entire body became enveloped in the stale, dusty radiance of artificial light. It was a dull, off-white glow that provided no warmth or comfort.

He crept forward, raising an eyebrow left, then swinging his head to the right, taking in his new surroundings slowly, fully. His eyes went wide, his face split into a huge grin. A twitch began at his right eyebrow as a hiss of air escaped his lips. The hiss became a whine which rose in pitch like a teakettle until it broke out into near-manic laughter.

“I’ve reached paradise!” he cried between laughs.

Surrounding him was the most glorious sight he’d ever seen. Shelves lined the walls as far as he could see. Where shelves were absent were instead giant bins. The floor was also lined with shelves or had tables lain out.

And filling every shelf, on top of every table, overflowing every bin were toys. Toys of all sorts and shapes, for all ages and interests, for colts, for fillies… It was every foal’s dream. And it was Pratfall’s entire life.

He gave another whoop of joy and dive bombed for the nearest bin, displacing a seemingly endless number of bouncy balls which clattered and bounced around the store. Like a tidal wave, they spread out, hitting a display of building blocks which collapsed like dominoes...right into a large domino display, which fell with the predicted effect. And all throughout, Pratfall laughed and laughed, flexing his wings, sending more waves of bouncy balls as he relaxed on top of the now much emptier bin.

He took another look around from his comfortable position. His mind had filled in the blanks, but he realized that it was a toy store. There were no price tags, but against the far wall he could see a checkout counter, complete with a register. Behind it was a door, with a bright red EXIT sign above it.

In the other direction were just more toys, though Pratfall could see some very expensive and well made types here or there. The whole store was empty and looked as if it had been for a long time. The lights above, a gentle and healthy gold, were bright, cheery, and inviting, but the shelves and toys themselves all had a faint layer...of…

He blinked, looking again. The dust that had been faintly covering everything was gone. Now the store looked brand new. It was still empty, but it seemed more like the emptiness just before the rush. It was pristine and ready for business.

Rubbing at his eyes, he looked again. It was just as he thought. Or...just as he had thought. As he had thought he had thought...

No no no, brain, he thought, smacking his temple to stop it hurting any more than it already did. Cracked? Now?

With a kick of his hooves and flap of his wings, he launched himself out of the bin and hovered, carefully examining everything. It seemed new, clean but, as he looked, he could see he had been mistaken. Off-colour paint and splinters dotted the wooden shelves, rust on the metal bins, carefully hidden by the goods but obvious to a close eye. Even the upper light, a sickly faint tinge of green, was clearly chosen to help dull the senses. It was sneaky, a dirty trick that his mind had overlooked in his excitement at all the toys.

His observations were interrupted by a booming voice saying, “Welcome, friends, to round one. By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing. So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.”

There was a pause before the draconequus added, “Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor, the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

Pratfall stood, still as stone, as his brain slowly processed this announcement. The store...and Discord…

“No…” he said after a moment. “It’s here. It’s real.” He poked at his chest. “I’m not crazy. But—!” Realization dawned. “Discord is! Or close enough! Oh, whew, hehehehe. That’s a big relief.”

Satisfied that the changes around him were just a product of the Chaos Lord’s, well, chaos, he headed for the seemingly endless rows of toys, content to explore and see if there was anything he had never played with before. He adjusted his bag of tricks, surmising that he had room for a few more… He just had to find the right ones.

That was when he saw it.

Slowly he approached—how had he not seen it earlier?—with a sense of wonder and awe filling him. It was ringed off by a red velvet rope, which Pratfall ducked under. There, on a simple wooden table, was the largest, most beautiful dollhouse that Pratfall had ever seen. He reached out a hoof then let it fall. This wasn’t a mere toy, it was a work of art.

One side was somewhat drab and seemed to be a factory of some sort. It was fairly uniform, with a few large, opaque windows and tall, round chimneys. To one side of that were large, square connections. Storehouses, he assumed. But it was the other side that was of real interest.

It was more the traditional dollhouse look, with various rooms stuffed with little furniture and small toys. Disappointingly, there were no dolls, but it was still wonderful to look at. He slowly rounded it and found that the other side was closed again. This one seemed to be a storefront—specifically, a toy store.

It was an old mom-and-pop-style operation, taken to a magnificent extreme. The storefront was intricately carved wood, separated by stained glass windows that displayed various staple toys. Pratfall stopped for a moment and leaned in close, pressing his eye up against a window, but it was no use. He couldn’t see inside—though, in some of the other windows, he thought he saw movement.

He was beginning to wonder if he couldn’t somehow open one of them when a loud crash caught his attention from behind. Spinning quickly with a flap of his wings, he got down low, ready to defend himself against his attacker...but saw nothing as he slid to a halt.

“Sh-show yourself!” he cried, trying to calm the nervous excitement he felt and project the confidence he had always wanted. “That’s not a very nice way to play!”

Silence answered him as he finally saw what the noise had been. A large stack of building blocks had been knocked over, making an ugly pile where once a graceful tower had reached the ceiling. But as he watched, he slowly noticed that the pile had a gentle tremble to it. Slowly, he approached, his wings up and ready to push him back at the first sign of trouble.

With a tentative hoof, he quickly jabbed at the pile, pushing aside the blocks to reveal what was hiding underneath. There was a loud cry and a large shape burst forth and began running away as Pratfall stood, dumbstruck.

“It’s, it’s… It’s a pony!” he cried, clapping his hooves together in glee. Leaping up, he took flight and began chasing after it. “Waitwaitwait! Listen to my joke!”

The running figure paid no heed—He must not be used to good comedy!—and jumped over the counter with Pratfall right behind him. It headbutted the swinging door and the pegasus found himself flying into a shadowy cavern. Almost right away, he realized he’d lost the other pony. It had had a dark, near-black coat, so it had slipped into the shadows before he’d entered.

Maybe behind one of these pillars? he thought, landing. He hadn’t noticed them at first, it being so dark, but they stretched from floor to ceiling in crooked angles. Then he thought again. It was hard to tell in the flickering light from so far above, but they seemed...square?

He landed, the pony he had been chasing long forgotten, as he looked at one up close.

“Ooooh! They’re boxes! Or crates.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “What a crate trick!”

Upon closer inspection, he found they were all marked with various types of toys. He figured it must be the shop’s stockroom, which would make sense. Although the towering individual stacks hardly did.

“Now… Where did that pony go?” he wondered aloud. “He’s got to listen to my awesome new crate joke.” The pegasus laughed. “And then I’ve got to kick his skull in and win! Oooh, that reminds me...” He reached into the saddle bag at his side, pulling out a collection of what seemed to be sharpened teeth. “I’ll leave these around in case I miss him. Everypony likes surprises, after all, and nothing surprises like my Chompers!”

Taking off, he flew in a leisurely pace, going in between the various stacks and dropping a set of teeth here and there. He wound them tight, and their rhythmic chattering followed in his wake. Soon, he was calling out for somepony, anypony, to come out and play.

This was going to be so much fun!

\—D—/

Kakumei was not having fun.

Despite her initial excitement at Discord’s game—particularly his amazing offer—she had quickly began to wonder if it truly was worth any price. Not that the lives of her opponents meant anything to her, of course. Griffons, ponies, changelings… They were lesser beings. Fine sacrifices for her chance at making the world as it should be.

What was not worth sacrificing, however, was her sanity. And this damned place that Discord had sent her was pushing that to its absolute limits. She had thought ponies tampered with the world to a horrendous degree. But they could take lessons from the so-called king of chaos.

She had never really believed the histories that spoke of the draconequus’ rule before her time. They seemed like something from a hatchling’s tale, designed to scare them into complacency. Now she saw they undershot the mark, rather than exaggerated. He was utterly insane.

“But insane or not,” she told herself, “he can be used, like anything. And if it means putting my people on top where they so rightly belong…”

Her scales tingled with excitement. That was better; that was what she needed to focus on.

But it was so, so difficult.

She had expected a proper arena. A roaring crowd surrounding a circular pit. Her opponent, grim and determined, across from her. A true test of their individual abilities against one another.

Instead, she’d found herself in some sort of workshop. For toys. Piles of wood next to clockwork parts; tools left upon dirty cans of paint. It was a mess. But hardly the worst part.

After Discord’s further instructions, she had began exploring, careful to be thorough but efficient. The workshop was huge and dark. And frustratingly empty. Then she came to a simple wooden door. That’s when she began to get angry.

On the other side was a similar workshop. In fact, she might’ve been so inclined to call it the same one. Except this time it was huge. Everything nearly the same, save being four times larger.

It was then that she noted something else. Before this, she had kept her emotions in check. Her mind was focused, its goal clear. But seeing this had unlocked the rage that the foolish ponies always stirred in her. This unnatural control of reality. And this made it worse.

As she came over the initial shock, and the rage grew, the room...changed. It was subtle, at first. But the more she noticed, the angrier she got, and the faster it changed. The dark, drab yellow lighting brightened in intensity, then took on a red tone. The air became humid and hot, even steamy. And at the same time, everything within the room became more dangerous.

Tools took on wicked edges, with super sharp blades. Paint became poison. Toys became weapons—although with a certain toy-like look.

Empathic morphology, she realized. Intense, dangerous, and blasphemous magic to be sure.

Kakumei knew she had to settle down. To control her thoughts and emotions. It was technically Discord’s magic, this was true, but she was the direct cause of it. And that was not acceptable.

She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing, bringing it to an even tempo. Control, she told herself. You are in control. You are in control. You are your own master, not the world around you. Be a Dragon: strength, wisdom, superiority, grace, intelligence.

It was an old ritual, retooled from her lifelong struggle against her race’s single shame: the Greed. That damnable trait was the only thing keeping her kind from their destiny as the world’s rulers. But, through iron discipline—and distraction, she admitted, substituting knowledge for gems as far as her own ‘hoard’ went—she had been one of the few to truly overcome that innate pitfall. Not eliminate, sadly. Not yet.

That’s what Discord was for, after all.

Between her desire to win and her meditation, Kakumei’s focus went from burning wild with anger to a pinpoint of controlled, icy fury. And with it, the room reacted. Slowly she forced her thoughts to shift it back to relative normalcy.

With one last slow exhale, she rushed out, determined to find her opponent and leave as quickly as possible. She walked along, passing table legs the size of tree trunks, their canopy the table above. Giant, half-finished toys were scattered around; a doll, its eye sockets black and empty, watched her progress as her own eyes darted to and fro, on the watch for movement. So far there had been nothing.

After a few minutes, a new sight caught her eye: a sliding glass door, very different from the rough wooden one she had gone through before. Passing through it brought her to what looked like a toy store, thankfully sized appropriately. The shelves were stocked to bursting, the counter clean but unstaffed. But what really stood out was a huge dollhouse, exceptional in its design and detail. She ambled to it and looked it over.

As she marveled at its construction, she had to fight to resist the sudden urge to own it. It was clearly one of a kind, expertly made. No doubt worth a fortune. The little windows were made of thick crystal, the woodwork cherry wood. And all those little details, such as the cute toy shop sign, which swung free, and just the barest hint of aging here or there...

“No!” she cried, taking a quick step back. It had almost had her, the desire to add it to her meager hoard back home. But if she let it take hold, then what? What other marvels might it find to take in this place? She shivered a little, embarrassed at the moment of weakness.

Without even looking at the dollhouse, she headed on down the aisles, again seeing nopony, until she saw another sliding door. An exit? she thought. She hoped.

But as she approached the door and opened it, the room she found herself in was the exact same one. Complete with counter, toys, and that beautiful dollhouse. Annoyed, she headed down the same path, past another door, opening it to reveal…

The same room. The same toys. The same dollhouse.

Faster this time, she headed down the aisle, past the door, into—

—the same room! Frustration mixed with just a hint of panic as every time she opened another door, there was the dollhouse, taunting her. She began running as fast as she could.

Aisle. Door. Same room. Aisle. Door. Same room. Aisle. Door. The same damn room!

She stopped in place, her heart pounding, as the rows of toys seemed to taunt her. Glassy, dead pony eyes stared into her very soul, as stuffed animals with wild smiles seemed to shake with laughter. A small voice told her this was the battlefield responding to her emotional state, but she couldn’t seem to focus.

This place… It’s affecting my mind… I can’t, can’t…

Then her eyes caught the dollhouse once more. Only this time, it was not her Greed it brought out, but instead her panicked anger. The dollhouse seemed to warp the very air around it, perhaps the source of the strange empathic magic. How had she missed it before? Now as she looked upon it, her scales itched in irritation at the sheer audacity and unnaturalness of it.

Kakukemi roared as loud as she could, shaking the surrounding shelves, sending toys crashing to the ground. She charged, belching fire at it and striking it with her claws. Her paw came down, slamming against the roof and rebounding harmlessly.

At the same time, she was knocked to her feet as the entire room shook. “Shi—!” she cried, slamming her head against the dollhouse painfully on the way down. The room shook again, causing her to tumble along the floor.

Her head ringing, Kakumei gripped at her skull, waiting for the room to stop shaking. Ceramic dolls shattered, wooden rocking horses splintered, and plastic balls bounced all over as the toys fell and exploded.

After a couple moments, the room finally stilled and she dared to crack open an eye and look at the dollhouse above her. It didn’t have a scratch.

“Wow, that was really something,” came an amused voice from behind her. “Kind of stupid, aren’t you?”

With a push of her wing, Kakumei righted herself and got into a defensive posture. There, on the other side of the counter, lounged a pegasus pony. He had a smug smirk plastered on his stupid horse-face, but conceited pity in his eyes. “What do you mean, I’m stupid?” she asked, insulted.

He gave a chortle, gesturing with both a hoof and a wing towards the dollhouse. “Trying to hurt that. It’s something special, yeah? Why would you want to break it? Really dumb.” He sniffed. “But you’re just a dragon, so I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“What,” she said quietly, icily.

“A dragon. You know, right? Big muscles and fiery tempers.” He pointed at his head. “A bit short on the brains, though. Everypony knows that!” he cried as he took to the air, barely avoiding the charging Kakumei.

In a move of impressive dexterity, she had leapt, turning her body into a spear as she shot for him right over the counter. All four claws landed on the far wall as she twisted and jumped back on top of the counter. The pegasus, however, was flying down the aisle, laughing his head off.

“Get back here!” she cried. “We have a fight for me to win!” Nothing but laughter replied as she took off herself, sprinting down the aisle. Though he was flying, he could hardly get up to full speed in the cramped shop. Surprisingly, he landed expertly and slipped right through the door.

She passed through it herself and saw they were in a massive warehouse—thankfully normal in scale, just huge in dimension. The pegasus was hovering above her.

“Sorry about that, maybe that was a bit much,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “Let’s start again! I’m Pratfall! Do you want to hear a joke?”

“Excuse me?” she replied, caught off guard by the sheer stupidity of the question.

“A joke! C’mon, everypony loves jokes!”

Kakumei ground her teeth. “What a damn waste of time… Don’t you get it? I’m your opponent, Kakumei. Get down here and die like you deserve!”

“Die? That reminds me of a great joke. A minotaur, a changeling, and a dragon walked into a bar, and the changeling says—”

“Shut up!”

Pratfall blinked, confused. “Not a Bar Joke fan, huh? OK, how about this… Knock knock!” The young dragon remained quiet, her fangs showing. “Uh…” He hesitated. Did she know how a Knock Knock Joke went? He tried again. “Knock knock?” The silence continued again, so he added, “This is where you say—”

“I don’t give a damn! Are you really that stupid or are you just trying to piss me off? ‘Cause I assure you, I am already there.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “Uh… That’s not very nice…”

“Nice? Nice?” she said, taking on a mocking tone. “If you haven’t noticed, this is a fight to the death. The stakes are impossibly high! This is not a time to be nice, and it’s definitely not the time for your imbecilic jokes!”

At last, she seemed to get through to him as his flapping slowed and he lowered all the way to the ground. With his descent, so too did the expression on his face fall, like a deflating balloon.

“Well, you’re just a meanie,” he whined.

“Enough!” Kakumei shouted. “I am tired of you wasting my time!”

Kicking a hoof at the ground, Pratfall looked thoughtful and hurt, but there was a suspicious glint in his eyes. He said, “Fine, then! No jokes! Your loss!” Stomping a hoof on the ground, he was unaware that the air around him had begun to shimmer with heat haze as his anger took effect. “Let’s play a game. It’ll be fun.”

He’s completely oblivious to what he’s doing! She herself felt the rage come back, speeding up the change around them. The storage area started becoming a clear hazard: boxes barely stacked, awaiting a crash at the slightest touch; contents changing from harmless dolls to Real Kitchen Knife Set! For ages 6 and below. Plenty of sharp edges!; the floor became scattered with transport trolleys.

“You imbecile, can’t you see? This isn’t a game! You pitiful ponies think you can do whatever you like—well no more! I’ll kill you for your impudence, your ignorance. And then I’ll kill the next, and the next, and however many more it takes until Discord gives me what I deserve!” She couldn’t help herself; that thought was too pleasing, too delightful.

She cackled.

“Shut up, shut up, shut up!” cried the pegasus. He gave a wordless scream then flapped his wings, shooting himself straight for her. Despite herself, she was caught off guard. He slammed into her, hooves first, knocking the breath out of her but little more thanks to her tough hide. They tumbled backwards.

Kakumei tried to bite down on the pony’s muzzle as they were locked together, but he was crazed, stupid, and she was still catching her breath. She could lightly feel him striking at her sides, her thick hide softening the blow, and was aware they were rolling on the ground. Finally, she managed to get an arm free enough to twist it, then scratch down with her claws. In too close to truly stab into him, still she scraped skin, felt blood, as her five talons scored along his rump.

The pegasus cried out and in desperation headbutted her. The pair saw stars and Kakumei felt herself land on the ground as he disentangled himself from her and took flight with a powerful flap of his wings. The atmosphere surrounding them was charged with energy but thick with tension, both fighters’ emotions made punishingly real. The dragon found each breath began to be laborious, not helping her spinning vision, still reeling from the headbutt.

Of course such a buffoon would have a thick skull! she thought to herself as she got to her feet and readied herself to fly after him. With a quick trio of flaps she was airborne, going as hard as she could so her enemy couldn’t get away.

The chase was on, and she was not about to let her victory escape!

\—D—/

Though it was all he could do to keep the tears back, Pratfall told himself he wasn’t running away. He was just finding the best place to make that mean dragon pay! Even now, he could hear her yelling and roaring, telling him to stop, that he was stupid, a coward.

And she had laughed at him.

He slightly shook his head. Don’t think about it, Pratfall. She’s the dumb one! Doesn’t even know how to respond to a basic Knock Knock Joke! No, she laughed at me instead!

Though he’d mostly avoided thinking about it, there had been times when Pratfall wondered if he could truly kill somepony for his goal. He had avoided answering that question until that moment. She had laughed at him. Now he had no doubts: If she had to die, well, she earned it.

Pratfall figured his best bet was to catch her off guard. He knew dragons were tough, but she seemed kind of small and easily riled. If he went through another door…

There, up ahead, he saw one. He laughed as he noticed some of his Chompers still chattering around it. Diving, Pratfall bore straight for it, landing, opening, and passing through it in a few dexterous moves.

It was the same warehouse, only big. And it seemed he exited through the door he had come in, as his teeth—now twice his own height—loomed menacingly. Perfect! he thought. That’ll do!

Satisfied, he dropped some of his sharpened jacks in the doorway and took off again, looking for a high spot to watch the fun. There, against a nearby wall, were a stack of crates, but at this size he could easily squeeze into the spaces in between. There, he barely managed to stifle his laughter as the door opened, revealing his golden opponent.

Though Pratfall had failed to take into account Kakumei’s toughened scaly hide, the bottoms of her feet were a bit more sensitive, especially to the piercing prick of the scattered jacks. She cried out, hopping from one painful point to another, completely oblivious to his giant Chompers heading straight for her. His whole body tingled with excitement as they chomped closer and closer…

He couldn’t help it. He laughed.

That got the dragon’s attention and she turned, seeing the looming white of the fangs biting for her. She belched fire and shot forward, burning a hole just big enough for her to jump through.

“Gah! No fair!” he cried. “Using fire is cheating! The game isn’t fun if you cheat.”

“You bastard!” she replied, flapping right for him. “This is no game! Stand still and fight!”

He barely managed to scrape himself out of his little hidey hole as she crashed into the boxes, sending splinters and shards flying. More falling than anything as she whooshed over his head, Pratfall landed hard. Fire rained down, singeing his feathers as he barely ran away from his raging opponent. He began regretting ticking her off so much.

The room’s temperature was sweltering between the fire behind him and Kakumei’s anger changing the room. Already he could feel his fur dripping with sweat. The worst part was that he was slowing down and she seemed to only move faster and faster.

Desperately, he sought another door. That was his only hope…

“Door, door, door, door, door…” Door! Out of the corner of his eye the shine of glass seemed to materialize from nowhere.

Leaping as hard as he could towards it, he heard the dragon curse and crash into a stack of crates as she failed to match his sudden turn. Pratfall lowered his head and smashed through the glass, leaping up over the counter and circling to the other side of the dollhouse, as he was in the toy shop once more.

He stood and waited as he heard curse after curse and the crashing and shattering of wooden boxes. Then, though it was smashed through, the remains of the glass door were thrown wide, slamming into the wall and shattering the rest of the way. Framed by the door was his opponent, and she was terrifying. Her fangs were bared and fire slipped through between them; a similar fire seemed to burn in her eyes.

“I. Have. Had. It!” she screamed. She breathed flames, blasting the counter away. Pratfall could only stand and stare, afraid that she might do the same to him if he moved even an inch. “This is a bad joke and I will not tolerate it any longer! I am a dragon! A dragon! Why Discord? Why!? Why was this the opponent?” Her talons flexed, breaking through the wooden floor with a loud crack. She glared at the pegasus. “You worthless, spineless, powerless fool! Why are you even here? Do us all a favor and stand still so I can get out of this madhouse!”

The last word rang out with an emphatic echo, fading to silence save the hyperventilating of Kakumei’s post-rage. The pegasus himself just stared, dumbfounded and astounded at the outburst. Then his face fell as realization dawned. This wasn’t fun.

“I’m tired of this game,” Pratfall said flatly, gently kicking at the tiled floor with a hoof. Almost instantly, the lights began flickering as the wooden shelves peeled and rotted. The cr-r-ack of snapping tiles underhoof echoed loudly and glass cases shattered.

With a wary look at the empathic changes around her, Kakumei’s patience snapped. “You idiotic fool! Cease your irresponsible tantrums! Do you not realize you’re disregarding the natural order, changing the world like that? What will it take to smash through that moronic skull that this isn’t a game!”

“My moronic skull?” the pegasus said quietly. “Your skull is moronic! Maybe I should smash through yours to show you how wrong you are!”

“Oh! Is that another one of your jokes?” the young dragon taunted. “Forgive me, but pony humor is so subtle… It almost sounds like you parroted me, like the empty-headed simpleton you are. As if you just couldn’t come up with anything on your own. But no, clearly it was just the work of a master comedian. Ha! Ha ha ha!” Tilting her head back, bringing a scaly claw in front of her mouth, her false laughter echoed in the darkening room.

The echo of the laugh pounded at Pratfall’s ears, filling his mind. His body shook, his eyes raced, desperately seeking an escape, but no matter the direction he turned the laughter just. Kept. On. It was just like before; just like all the befores. He’d done his best, he’d given it his all, but they kept laugh, laugh, laughing at him. His jokes were great. His gags the best. But still they found him the funniest thing of all.

He could hear them all. All of them laughing. It was a cacophony of shame at his expense.

He put his hooves to his ears and tried to shut out the sound, but nothing would stop it. Stop it. Stop it!

“Stop it!” he roared. “Stop. Laughing. At.ME!”

And he turned, slamming his hoof into the dollhouse, breaking through the roof with a tremendous crash.

Immediately, a giant hoof broke through the ceiling above Kakumei. She had just enough time to turn and begin the flapping of her wings to save herself when it came crashing down, cutting off her roar of terror with a terrible finality. The hoof slammed into the ground flat, cracking the tiles below. The giant limb, covered in a soft, pale violet coat, twisted down before raising.

Pratfall removed his limb from the dollhouse, then flicked it hard, saying, “My jokes always bring down the house, but your laugh is annoying.” Then he was quiet—quiet as the world was quiet. Nopony to laugh at his joke.

But nopony to laugh at him, either.

Coming back to his sense, Pratfall slowly walked behind the counter where the glowing red EXIT sign seemed to be inviting him. Though curious, he kept his eyes away from the large, circular impression where his opponent had once stood. Nor did he let them look up at the hole that opened up confusing and painful consequences about his surroundings. Suddenly, Pratfall knew he had broken something in this place. The magic would leave. His paradise was destroyed.

As he gently pushed open the door, darkness was all that awaited him. Yet he wasn’t scared or worried. No. Already, his depressing thoughts of what he had lost were fading, replaced by excitement and expectation. What would Discord think of for the next round?

His teeth shone in the dying light of the toy store, his smile wide as a laugh escaped his throat. He laughed and laughed and laughed, chuckled and guffawed and chortled and sniggered. This time the echo was one of pure joy, his joy. As he took his first step out, he could feel that he hadn’t broken it after all. Life and laughter would fill the toy store forever, thanks to him.

Thanks to him, the wonder survived. And so he laughed, and this made him laugh even more.

He’d had such a good time already… Surely he’d have even more fun with his next opponent. Whoever it would be, surely they’d have a better sense of humor than his last.

Let the Games begin!

Discord let out a long, tired sigh, his foot tapping impatiently at the ground as he swirled his chocolate milk of glass. Again, he contemplated his miserable lot in life. Being the absolute ruler of an entire kingdom was so…boring. He couldn’t believe just how dull every day was, day after day.

Now, taking over the kingdom, that had been glorious, wonderful fun. Starting off small, his simple tricks had infuriated and confused those he’d pulled them on. But when he built up? Oh, what a riot! Entire communities had been turned on their head! Some literally.

Day had been night, or dusk, or morning, or day. Nopony ever really knew what he would decide. Then again, neither had he! He chuckled at the memory as he had made fish fly and birds swim; rain had parched the ground to dust, or came down uncomfortably, even unbearably hot, or, as his personal favorite, chocolate milk. Everything the ponies had held so dear in their command—the animals, the weather, the very magic so inherent to who they were (Cutie Mark Roulette had been a particular favorite)—had been taken away and put under his will.

But now that he had won, now that Harmony had been shown its true place—its boring, pointless, miniscule place—he was finding his chaos...lacking. As much as he hated to say it, chaos unimpeded was hardly chaos at all. It needed something to fight against, something to react to. Unexpectedly, of course.

Turning to lie upside down and sideways in his chair—bringing the view of his hut back to normal—he realized that chaos was served better with an outside force to actually find it chaotic. Sure, the ponies of Equestria suffered under its sway eternally, fearing what the next day, the next hour, the next minute might bring down upon their hooves or under their heads. But it was a constant, with no change in the overall effect.

Even an immortal scion of chaos could break a pony’s will only so many times before it became routine. And that disgusted him. He was better than that. Oh so much better.

He rubbed at his chin. Something he had thought, something that had flittered in and out, had caught his attention… Now what was it?

With a snap of his fingers, he summoned a mirror in front of him.

“Mirror, mirror, in my paw,” he intoned dramatically, “show me when I was thinking ten seconds ago.”

The blank face swirled with color until Discord was watching himself, on his chair, on his chair. He had to admit that the draconequus looked especially stately and wondered if he truly looked so wise and pensive when he was thinking to himself. It was almost too good to be believed. Almost.

But instead of the visage of intelligence and maturity he knew he held most of the time, this time Discord felt his face fall in annoyance. “Well this isn’t very helpful. Yes, I can see little ol’ me thinking hard, but I can hardly see what I’m thinking. Pfui,” he snorted, tossing the mirror aside. It bounced off the stone floor, landing near the fireplace, where it promptly melted.

He thought about it once again. How do I go about reading my own mind?

“Aha!” he shouted as the answer came to him. “Discord, old boy, you’re getting rusty. This is too easy.”

He raised his paw and snapped his fingers smartly. There was a bright flash, a bit of smoke—totally unnecessary, but he felt the effects added a little professionalism—and the sound of a rooster crowing. Funny, he didn’t remember adding that last part…

“That was me, sorry. I just couldn’t help myself! It really needed a sound effect.” he said to himself, gently wiping off his front. “And next time, could we skip the rush of air? It really stirs up the dust.”

“Are you implying that my performance was lacking?” he asked himself, incredulous.

“There there, we all have our off days,” he consoled, patting himself on the back. “Besides, don’t we have more important business to attend to?”

“You’re right,” he said, not entirely over the insult. “I’m trying to think of the perfect way to alleviate this, shall we say, slump we’re in?”

“And I’ve already thought of it,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

“True, true. But I’ve done and forgotten.”

“Tsk tsk.” He wagged a finger. “I suppose it can’t be helped. We are a neverending fountain of good ideas, after all. Things get pushed out, removed, replaced… Even we can have...trouble with our own majesty.”

Discord’s eyes lit up. “So true! It is so wonderful to see somepony else who truly gets me.”

“Even if I am you,” the copy replied.

Discord nodded, waving a claw. “Who else can I trust for the perfect solution but moi?”

The copy nodded, a knowing look on his handsome face. “But enough about me, let’s talk about us.”

“Let’s.”

“So, what do you want from me, might I ask?”

Discord waved his arms around widely. “All of this. It was so pleasing, so fantastic to take. But now it’s ours.”

“And we grow bored,” said the clone, thoughtfully.

“Too much so! What is there left to do? I mean, there are only so many ways to break a pony once they’re already broken, after all.”

“Is it really breaking them when you rule?”

“A fair point, a fair point. But I can hardly grant them Harmony.” He made a twisted face. “Even just saying the word is—“

“Atrocious. Vile. Practically vulgar,” said the clone, matching his expression and sticking out a tongue.

“And all that work I put in, all that effort and struggle to show these ponies that rightful ways of Chaos…” He paused as he saw his doppelganger’s face take on an odd look. “Do you have something?”

“I just might.” He gave a wicked grin. “I think this is even more than what we thought up earlier, for now we are focused! Yes, yes. Listen to this:

“We recognize that the fun isn’t what comes after the victory, but obtaining the victory itself.”

Discord nodded. “Yes, and?”

“Well that’s it! It was the fight that kept things interesting. Boring and useless as those harmony-loving fools were, they still forced us to bring our A-game. They challenged us, made us think, made us be creative. And that test of our own might was—”

“Immense fun!” Discord finished. “Yes, yes, I see now. We need those still in a position to think themselves free, or at least believe they can become free. To fight against us, try to overcome us. Somepony with enough free will and, above all, hope left that we can then crush into the dust! Mwahaha! Oh yes! What a brilliant idea.”

“Now hold on just a moment there,” his clone said sternly. “That is all well and good but...perhaps it shouldn’t be us who crush it?”

Discord tilted his head, confused. “Explain?”

The other Discord brought his claw and paw together in a thoughtful expression. “Well, we both know there’s nopony alive or dead with the skill, charm, wit, power, or looks to stand against us. So what fun would it really be if we stopped them? But really, when were we having the most fun? When we applied ourselves directly?”

Slowly, realization dawned upon Discord. “It’s so obvious! I feel silly that I missed it… Well, I suppose I didn’t miss it. It was too obvious, perhaps, so clearly just a matter of course.”

“So you see what I mean?”

“Oh yes,” he said with relish, rubbing his paw and claw together eagerly. “The best trick up our sleeves, if we had them. Not to overtake them ourselves, but to let them destroy themselves. Yes, those were the days. A rumor here, a slight practical joke there… And those fools would take themselves apart, piece by piece. Glorious.”

“So, we are agreed?” asked the clone.

“Oh very much so.” He gave a deep, dramatic bow. “I just want to thank myself for making this possible.”

The clone laughed, waving a claw. “Oh, stop, me. You’re embarrassing yourself!”

Discord tapped at his chin. “True, and time waits for nopony! Well, ta ta!”

“Ta,” replied the clone as Discord clapped his hands together. There was another flash of light as the whole room trembled. When it all calmed, Discord was alone, as he always had been.

His mind was racing.

“A competition,” he thought aloud. “A competition of free souls, untouched by my majesty. ...now where will I find anypony like that?” He hmmed to himself. “Everypony now is a happy subject to my rule. They would follow my commands, but for all the wrong reasons. There’s no entertainment there.

“But…” He paused. It would require a fair bit of power, but certainly was not beyond him. He began to pace, swirling a bit of energy to bring up a small model as he thought it up. “It is only fair, after all. To open the competition to all of Equestria—no matter when they might be from. Yes.” He nodded, satisfied. He turned, looking at the vague shape of the magical model that was forming itself.

“They’ll need the proper venue, of course.” He casually jerked a finger and the model began collapsing into itself, expanding again in a different shape. “After all, it can’t be too easy. Not only must they test themselves against each other, but I think I’ve earned the right to test them myself.”

He continued tweaking and teasing, as much guiding the creation as letting it create itself. It had to be perfect in its imperfection. So expertly designed to accommodate any challenger. Dangerous and deadly, difficult but still allowing a chance. It would keep his competitors on their hooves. He could picture it now, watching them move—some afraid, some nervous, some prepared, but all anxious and perhaps just a little paranoid. Truly the perfect combination for the best show.

At last, he gently lifted the finished model before him. To anypony else, it wasn’t much to look at. Relatively circular, divided into various sections, the detail wasn’t, well, in the details. But Discord could sense the differences in each section. Each field had a spirit of its own, all dedicated to twisting reality into a more entertaining form.

He laughed. “Oh yes, Discord. You’ve truly outdone yourself. Though the real thing will have to wait just a moment longer...”

Setting the model down, he turned his mind to the next piece: the competitors.

Taking his seat again, he thought what would work best. Should they be trained warriors? Normal ponies? What he needed was a single factor unifying them all. The energy required to gather them would be immense, and if he wanted it to work well, giving the spell as singular a target as possible would be best.

“Simply fighting for your life is all well and good,” he said aloud, “but what this game needs is true desperation. Desire in their drive. Plus, if they know they’re actually fighting for something, they will struggle all the harder.”

Yes, he nodded to himself. Even the best sort would throw his own mother to the dogs if it meant getting something that defined his very being. That he wanted enough to risk his life for. To kill for.

His laughter filled the room. It was just too wonderful; he couldn’t wait to see his plan in action.

Heading for the door, he grabbed the model with his tail. He had an Arena to build, and time was wasting. Then the spell itself…

He sighed as he took to the sky, the site for the Arena already chosen in his mind. It would be a lot of work.

But it would be so worth it.

\—D—/

Later, the chaos lord wiped at his brow, exhausted.

It had taken him seven terrible, long, grueling seconds of focus and concentration. Though he was all-powerful and infinitely skilled, this spell was perhaps the most complex and draining he had ever worked.

But there it stood before him. A swarming, beautiful vortex of Chaos energy. The Chaos Arena had been a breeze compared to this. However, this was only the first step. It was just energy, after all. Now to shape it to his will…

The spell would be keyed to the land of Equestria itself. Discord closed his eyes and opened himself to it. It was fascinating, even now, feeling at one with the land. As powerful as he was, there was simply so much more magic contained in the earth. And that magic tied the land with anything and everything living on it. So he carefully tied his spell to that magic, which would allow it the same access he had in sensing those connections.

This was also how it would be able to pull ponies—or whatever, why be picky?—from any time as well. Though Discord had never done much studying on it himself, he knew magic’s odd relationship with time had fascinated that old goat, Starswirl. It amused him to think how the stallion would react to Discord’s little game.

He realized, absentmindedly, that the spell itself would have to have a bit of a mind of its own. The ponies it chose had to meet his strict requirements, but he hardly wanted to choose them himself. No, he wanted the surprise.

After tying it to Equestria, he began imparting the selection process. Skill and experience and physical capability, these were all well and good but ultimately secondary. No, what the participants had to have above all other things was a wish. Something located at their very core that they then built their entire self about. It would define them, make them who they were. Nothing less would drive them hard enough to do anything to get it.

It would be that want that would be their downfall. Oh, sure, there would be one victor—and Discord was even feeling generous enough that he thought he would actually grant their request—but the rest would do everything they could to win. They would be filled with hope, only to have it dashed by others feeling the same way. And Discord could simply watch and laugh.

With these thoughts and more, he shaped the spell to share them. It would base all its own decisions on them, granting Discord the absolute best potential roster.

After a few minutes, Discord realized he actually did feel a little worn out. The spell was taking a good deal of his power, though it would return in time. He disregarded it as unimportant. His work neared completion.

As he finished it, he double-checked his handiwork. It was a monster of a spell, and he felt pleased at his own genius. Gently, he willed it to act. With little fanfare, the energy dissipated quickly, although he could lightly sense it coursing through the magical veins of Equestria.

He smiled, wickedly. For all those that had fought against him, for all those that wailed and whined about his chaos, there was proof enough. The land itself accepted it—although it accepted harmony just as well, he grudgingly admitted. But regardless, there it was. Equestria could be a simple land of harmony or a playground of chaos. And which was the obvious choice?

Discord summoned up a seat, took it, and let out a long sigh. It had been ages since he had worked with that much pure chaotic magic. He felt, oddly, tired. It was unusual, unpleasant. But, he supposed, not unexpected. His energy would return with just a little time.

And that was exactly what he had. The spell was out and about, checking every heart, peeking into every dusty mind. Searching, searching. No place was safe; no time was immune.

“Sixteen,” he said quietly. “Find me sixteen! And then we can get this party started!”

And then he laughed. He could hardly wait.

\—D—/

There was no way that Discord could do much more than gently feel the workings of his spell. As it coursed through the leylines of Equestria, it faded in and out, going before and beyond his own frame of the Present. He tried to imagine it.

Gently it would dart along, unseen, but perhaps felt by those sensitive to such things. For each creature it would pause for a split second, probing their innermost thoughts and feelings, comparing it to the template that Discord had instilled within it. Then, with the will he had imparted into it, it would make a judgement call.

For most it would search, reject, and then move on. But here or there, then or when…

Here a pegasus paused in midflight, his feathers tingling, as if a storm was coming. There an earth pony stopped his charge, a strong sense of foreboding filling his mind. Then a gryphon felt an itch on her back, as if she was being watched. When the changeling’s sense of emotional energy completely blanked, it mentally screamed, both from terror at the unfamiliarity and pain from its sudden intense hunger.

And then, just as suddenly as they paused, suffering from that strange dark feeling, they vanished.

Just a faint pop and they were gone. With each, Discord could feel the spell working, like a little tickle in the back of his mind. One by one, he counted down, knowing the spell would deposit them all at the same time in the place he designated—at the entrance to his Chaos Arena.

Four… Three… Two… One—!

With a flap of his wings, he bounded from his chair, barely containing his excitement. He felt like a kid again, all giddy energy and expectation. He took a step for the door, then stopped.

“Now, now, Discord,” he told himself. “This will have to be handled...delicately. Can’t just go barging in like some sort of common pony. You are a king. Act like one.”

They would be arriving in the large foyer-style entrance he had placed in the Arena. While he could have simply appeared there—which had its merits, he admitted—he wanted to see them first.

So, with a snap of his fingers he instead teleported to the upper level of the entrance, into his viewing room. There, in the center, was yet another model of the Arena, but much larger than the first one he had made. At the moment it was simply so much carved stone, but when the Games began his magic would bring it to life. A living representation of the reality. Perfectly allowing him to watch—and even affect things, if he felt the need or whim.

On one side was a copy of his favorite chair; across from that was a large set of double doors. It was through these he passed, down a long hall, lit only by torchlight, and past another set. He opened them quietly, revealing a small balcony. Approaching the railing, he leaned on it and shifted his gaze over and down.

Discord rubbed his claw and paw together eagerly as he looked over the collection of vic—er, participants. His spell had done wonderfully; far better than he had initially expected. Even now, he could sense—below their confusion, their anger, their fear—the overwhelming need within their hearts. Sixteen very different goals within sixteen very different breasts, but all so strong, so defining.

They were all so delectably perfect for what he had in mind. And skilled, too. So unique and talented a group of souls… There was a fine mix of ponies, a couple griffons and changelings, and even a young dragon. What were the odds?

“Just as I want them,” he whispered to himself. Yes… He could feel his spirit rejuvenating already. Here would be the best in entertainment. They would fight—whatever their consciences told them—and they would fight so well. A spectacle for all the ages… Perhaps, he thought, I should do this more often! Now there was an idea!

Oh but mustn’t let them wait any longer. The show must go on!

Already some were beginning to grow restless, though they were all suspicious enough that they had yet to speak to one another. Still, it would only be a matter of moments, and he didn’t want that. Not at all. That would spoil his fun.

Clapping his hands together loudly, he released a bit of power to magnify the sound. That brought everypony’s attention to the two massive torches that burst into rainbow-coloured flame above them. Between the flames, he entered, lightly resting an arm on the railing and looking at his playthings below.

He saw a great many things look back at him. There was far more recognition than he suspected there would be. He was not a complete unknown. Yet most were from the far future, or so the residual magic around them told him. However, those looked, for the most part, fairly...normal. Like anypony from before he had taken over. That was either a very interesting point or a very disappointing one. Perhaps both.

In some of those eyes was hate, and Discord reveled in it. That was what he had worked so hard to see, at least in the beginning. First they hated him, then they feared him, and then they knew nothing but despair… Oooh, he itched all over just thinking about it.

There was plenty of confusion, with just a little fear, which was to be expected. And in a couple of his guests’ eyes he saw excitement, of all things. Strange, that, but satisfying in its own right. Being feared and hated was fantastic, but it was nice to sprinkle in a little respect and even fawning over him. He did so deserve it, after all.

He let his senses flow over the gathered sixteen, taking in who they were and what they were capable of. He also took careful note of their equipment—one pony was covered with a lot of strange mechanical devices that Discord couldn’t even begin to guess the purpose behind—and noted how many unicorns were among the bunch. Sometimes a little planning went a long way to bring out the best chaos, after all, and he would need to pair them off accordingly.

Satisfied, he stood tall, stretched his arms out wide, and gave his best smile.

Showtime!

“Greetings, worthy participants!” he called out, magnifying his voice with a little magical help. “And welcome! To the Discordian Games!”

And dramatic pause… Is that applause?

He lowered his arms and took back a position leaning on the railing. Yes, he could see there were at least two ponies clapping wildly. He kept his face neutral, but inwardly he smiled. That was very interesting.

“I’ll bet you’re wondering exactly what that is, or perhaps a, ‘Why me?’ or maybe you’re so befuddled you don’t even know who I am.” He inclined his head a fraction. “I am your host, your organizer, your absolute ruler-supreme. But I am generous, so you may simply call me Discord.”

That drew sharp looks, both confused and angry. But he continued.

“Some of you have heard of me, I see. For those of you unfamiliar, you are forgiven, for today you have been especially chosen to compete in a once-in-a-lifetime, historic event. For all of Equestria’s entertainment, you have been gathered. Hither and yon I have taken you—oh, and even time was no obstacle in choosing my perfect participants, so if things seem a little different than what you’re used to, try not to collapse into a twitching pile. But I do go on.”

He paused, looking at them carefully. And...there! he thought, quickly waving his claw.

Down below, a few of the participants had opened their mouths—and at least one beak—to speak, but he silenced them quickly, stuffing their mouths with pacifiers. A bib wrapped around their heads, holding them tight in.

“Ah ah ah,” he said, wagging a finger. “Don’t interrupt your betters, children. I am still talking. Trust me, there is still so much more to tell, and you’ll want to hear it if you care to have a hope to survive.” He grinned. “And win my prize.”

Aaah! That hit the mark, he thought, pleased. Some had been distinctly ignoring him, others simply looked angry or disinterested. Now he had their undivided attention.

“Yes, you heard me right. They’re called games for a reason, everypony! In my eternal generosity, I am prepared to do more than simply give you the honor of participating. For one of you, count ‘em, one, there awaits the most spectacular of prizes! Nothing in your pitiful little lives could even hope to compare.” Discord gently waved his hands. “I know, you are not worthy. But still, it is my pleasure as your king.

“What is this fabulous prize, you may ask? Well, you might want to, but you can’t… Nevermind. The prize. Yes, the prize!” He pointed down at them with one long finger. “For one of you, I am prepared to grant you anything you could possibly want.” He saw some looks of disbelief, some in doubt and some in awe. “Yes, it seems impossible, or perhaps too good to be true. But rest assured, I fully mean what I say.

“One thing, any possible thing. I will use my infinite power to grant it. Think upon that, if you will. An offer like this doesn’t come about everyday. And I am fully aware that within each of you is a wish stronger than anything.” He paused, a thought occurring. “Also, I grant you my word that, despite my chaotic tendencies, I am perfectly capable of applying my power in a fair and just manner. What you want, you will get. No tricks, no strings.

“‘But Discord,’ you may be saying,” he said, beginning to pace back and forth, “‘what can we possibly do to earn such a marvelous prize? How might we earn your infinite grace and generosity?’ I am so glad you asked. I know you’re limited, but in my wisdom I have made the Games very simplistic.

“Look around you. In this hall, you will spy sixteen doors. One for each of you. Those doors lead to my specially designed Chaos Arena. It is a masterpiece of work, one time a boring old pony city. Dedicated to the usual pointlessness of harmony and peace and comfort and blah, blah, blah.” He spat. “Boring! But not without potential; potential I have unlocked as only I can do.

“You sixteen will step through those doors, into the Arena, where wonders and danger await, hoof in claw. My fields are glorious in their design and nature, but make no mistake. In the Arena you face death.”

Stopping his pacing, he took to the railing again, studying their reactions at this announcement. A part of him almost wanted to release the silence, but his patience held. Though he knew he would need to hurry it along, lest he do something drastic.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped. “Of course you face death—how else would we reduce sixteen to one? But the Arena is merely half the challenge, and the easier half at that. Look around you, a little closer this time. See into the eyes of your fellow participants. They are the only thing standing between you and victory. Between you and your prize. Take a good, long look.” He smirked. “For one of them may be the eyes of the pony who might end you.

“Alone, you’ll enter the Arena, but that is just temporary. For you see, there is only one game tonight: Kill, or be killed. Fight and win, for death is the only thing awaiting the losers.”

Rapping his fingers on the rail, he added, “And if any of you get cold-hooves and think you’ll simply run away or not fight… A little bit of advice. There is no escape without my say so. You are here because I want you here, and nothing will change that. But, let’s say you do manage to escape the Arena. Impossible, but let’s pretend. The only thing you will find is Discord. This land is mine; all of Equestria is mine. You can not escape me, no matter how far you might run.

“Furthermore, I’ll sweeten the pot. Perhaps even your greatest want is not enough to make you kill. So, on top of your wish, I will send you home, safe and sound. No matter where or when that might be. Keep that in mind, all of you, as we begin.”

With that, the room descended into silence, even deeper than was possible with his spell. None of the participants looked at one another. They were too busy looking within their own selves.

And so it truly has begun, he thought happily. He could see the wheels turning as some concentrated on the fight, but most considered his words. Slowly they would convince themselves of the necessity, of the worth… Discord knew all too well how the pony mind worked. Like a changeling or a griffon would be that different, he reckoned. But no matter what they told themselves, even winning what they wanted most in the world, it would torture and haunt them, twisting them into a shell of what they were.

Just as planned.

Slowly he raised his arms, rubbing his fingers together. Sparks shot from his talons and claws, falling from the balcony above down below. As they hit the stone floor they began bouncing towards the far walls. Sixteen hopping spark flows separated out, one for each door. As they hit the plain wood, they moved up the front and gathered, forming a simple curve of a handle.

“Now choose,” boomed his voice. “Best of luck and fight well. But remember the most important thing:

“Entertain me.”

And with that, he vanished once more, a crackle of thunder and his mad laughter marking his exit as his voice echoed, bouncing to and fro and filling the entire room.

Finding themselves still silenced, the various participants—each having come to their own conclusion—slowly trotted or hovered or slinked to a door, avoiding looking too hard at one another. Then, as one, they gripped the glowing handle and pulled.

As they passed through the doors, they closed with a final boom, leaving an empty and silent room.

The Games had begun.

With Rock and Steel (Win)

Author's Note

Done reading this and Ember's fight? Decide who wins right here!

With Rock and Steel (Win)

With Rock and Steel

The door shutting behind him, the iron clad stallion closed his eyes, his world turning black.

Breath In.

It would be simple.

He could feel his ash lance’s familiar weight strapped to his side.

Breath out.

He was a soldier of the 22nd.

His listened to the quiet jingling of his armor.

Breath in.

He opponent was not, he would fail to beat him.

His dagger clanked softly on his chest as he shifted himself.

Breath out.

Harmony was by his side.

He felt the reassuring weight of his war hammer at his hip.

Breath In.

He heard the door open.

“Harmony favor me.”

Thunder Hammer of Celestia’s own 22nd Rangers opened his eyes. He’d seen action in all kinds of terrain with the 22nd, from the bitter cold glacial fields of the northern border to the most barren of the badlands. From his experience, the scene before looked most like the great volcanic rock fields of the higher dragon lands.

The rock was familiar, the same ash black jagged stones full of crevices, canyons, and sharp edges. Unlike the actual volcanic fields, there were thankfully no fissures of magma to be avoided.

The floating rocks in the distance were new however.

Setting his jaw, Thunder Hammer stepped clear of the small room. His lance led the way as the ground crunched underhoof.

Thunder Hammer’s eyes scanned back and forth for any sign of his opponent, until a voice boomed from the sky.

“Welcome, friends—”

Discord.

“—to round one.”

Thunder Hammer looked up and couldn’t find the source of the voice.

“By now you’re probably wondering where your opponents are. Well, look around! Somewhere within the Arena your obstacle to victory is thinking the same thing.”

He continued walking, still listening to Discord, still scanning with his eyes.

“So keep on your guard! You never know where they might be or what they might be capable of.”

So his opponent was as in the dark as he was.

The chaos god paused in his little speech, before continuing.

“Oh, and by the way. Once one of you has proven to be a clear victor—”

Thunder Hammer stopped walking.

“—the exit will appear at the center of the battlefield. Good luck finding it! Ta!”

Seemed simple enough: find his opponent, send him to whatever afterlife was waiting for him, then find the center of the field. Small potatoes for a stallion that had battled dragons. Of course, he hadn’t been without his fellow soldiers then. He shook his head to clear the assaulting images. Dead faces and dead names swam in his vision before he managed to clear them. He cursed under his breath.

He needed to focus.

He quickened his pace, scrabbling to the top of a small rise. It served as a decent vantage point of the terrain before him. The barren black rock stretched on to a large body of water, some kind of bridge connecting it to the next island. He could make out in the distance bolts of lightning arcing between large rocks in the sky.

“What sorcery has wrought this?” he muttered.

Seeing nothing of his opponent, he made his way back down the other side of the porous rock. As he did so, he heard a cry from nearby.

It was a baby.

He quickened his pace.

He could tell it was hungry.

He stopped almost midstride down the rise.

How did he know that?

Once again hazy memories assaulted him, a flash of smiling teeth, a small bundle, and a mare’s voice

“Do you want to hold—?”

He cursed out loud as he tumbled the last few stones to the ground, painfully returning to reality in a heap of metal and expletives. The source of the crying a few yards away from him.

It was a mother and foal.

The young mare looked barely out of fillyhood. From her matted mane that stuck out at odd angles to the filthy cloth that held her foal to her back, she was covered in grime. She was facing away from Thunder Hammer as he fell, only seeming to notice him when he picked himself up. She looked at him and took a pace back.

He walked slowly towards her as not to startle her, her eyes held nothing but fear for the armored pony.

“Easy there, easy. I only wish to help.”

She took another step back confusion on her face.

They both froze as a deep rumbling was heard underhoof. Before Thunder Hammer could say anything further, the mare bolted.

“Miss!? Wai—”

Before he could continue, he was slammed to the ground by his armor. With a grunt he tried to stand. It felt like he was trying to do a pushup with a small house spread out on his armor. The battle hammer at his side felt like a ton of bricks strapped to him. After several painful seconds of exertion he let his body go limp, his nose in the dirt as his helmet and coif dragged him down.

What sorcery is this? he thought to himself. He remembered as a foal a street entertainer using a strange metal to pull other metal towards it with an invisible force. Was this island one giant rock of that? The mare had run off without difficulty, whatever was going on must only affect metal.

He frowned as a thought came to him.

Is that why those rocks were floating on the other island? The same strange force but reversed?

He pushed those thoughts from his mind; he had more important things to worry about. Specifically what he was going to do if his opponent came across him seemingly glued to the floor and defenseless? Perhaps he could escape the downward pull of the island’s power?

Gritting his teeth, he tried to haul himself forward using his legs to drag himself in the direction he’d seen the mare take off with her foal. To his credit he managed to pull himself six inches before the effort defeated him, leaving him panting and out of breath, his tongue lolling out as he greedily sucked in air. So he sat there as he caught his breath, if the force hadn’t been there before perhaps it would fade soon? No sooner had he thought this then he could feel the pull on his armor lessening. He stayed still however, until it had returned itself to its usual weight.

He waited until he stopped panting, he had no idea where his opponent was so there was no need for him to go charging anywhere yet.

That was until he’d heard the first scream. By the second he’d gotten his hooves under him, he was running in the direction of said screams. Grimly, he observed that the screams were coming from where he’d seen the mare and foal disappear to. He wasn’t sure what was out there, but if it was his opponent who was causing the mare and her foal distress, he’d make him pay.

That was just simply not done.

He followed the screams, moving as fast as he could, barely managing to stop as he turned a corner and the island vanished. His hooves scrambled for purchase as the edge rapidly approached him. He came to a stop mere inches from it, rocks and dirt tumbling down to make small splashes in the water below

He had reached the edge of his island. However, more than a stone’s throw away was another island, the same dark craggy rock as his current one. He strained his eyes and could make out several grey forms running along the side of it, most likely the mare and her pursuers. Short of a thirty foot drop into rock filled waters and a hard swim—not a pleasant thought in full armor—the only way to the other island was a string of rocks forming what could be called a bridge. The rocks themselves didn’t seem to be held up by anything, or tethered together in any way. There were enough large rocks for him to get across.

Probably.

All of this the experienced campaigner took in with a moment’s glance as he stood at the edge. Thunder Hammer was braver than most, but only a fool wouldn’t have hesitated. Nevertheless, he was a ranger, and it was time to earn the right to wear the solar symbols on his barding.

“Harmony protects,” he muttered as he backed up a few paces. With a thundering charge he leapt over the edge of the cliff allowing his momentum to carry him onto the first rock.

It dipped under his impact as he scrabbled for a hold. Finding it, he hauled himself upright then leapt for the next one. He managed to easily step off onto the next. He made short work of the rest of the floating bridge, only having one heart stopping moment when he reached the far side and a rear hoof slipped, leaving him dangling by his forelegs. With a grunt he heaved himself up, not giving himself a moment’s rest as he sprinted towards where he had last heard the screams.

As he ran he felt his armor grow lighter.

Adrenaline, he thought to himself, coming up to a fork in the rough pathway he was following. A loud snarl prompted him to pull right. Whatever it was that was menacing the mare and her foal would meet his end at the tip of a lance.

The snarling grew louder as he rounded the bend. With a flick of his head, his visor came down; whatever was over there would get one warning and one warning only.

Before him was something out of a fairy tale. Large rocks floated haphazardly in the air with several equines crawling over them like ants. They were like the mare, with various shades of grey and dirty blacks making up their coat colors. Thunder Hammer could make out the mare upon one of the higher rocks, trying to climb up to the next one with her foal still on her back and two grey stallions pursuing her. With several more circling like dogs beneath them.

“Oi, you!” Thunder Hammer challenged, stamping one hoof against the ground like a bull preparing to charge.

The nearest grey one turned to look at him, and Thunder Hammer could see the same dull eyes. It snarled at him.

Savages.

He charged. A good proper charge, the kind where his vision narrowed within the confines of his visor to pick out nothing but his targets. The kind where his breathing slowed, even as his hooves lashed out at the ground beneath him, putting on more and more speed in the short distance.

The kind his old unit had made countless times.

At this point he didn’t even feel his armor, if anything his armor was beginning to tug at the straps upwards.

“Hell’s teeth!” Thunder Hammer shouted as he was lifted up into the air by his barding just before he turned the madpony in front of him into stallion-on-a-stick. He continued cursing as he floated rapidly up, his brain slowly putting the pieces together. The floating rocks worked by the same magic that had pulled him to the ground just before, but now it was in reverse. He tried to propel himself towards the nearest floating rock, ignoring the ugly snarls beneath him. Floating in the air as he was, the magic suddenly stopping would prove to be a problem. As a flap of chainmail neared a floating rock, he felt a slight tug towards it. Perhaps if he could get close enough to one of the larger pieces… He stopped flailing around and kept going skyward. He could only hope his opponent wouldn’t show up until he had sorted this little mess out, or better yet was having the same trouble he was. Thunder Hammer couldn’t have imagined a more vulnerable position to be in.

\—D—/

Quite frankly Ember was hwaving a blast. After narrowly avoiding getting electrocuted by lightning on her way off her island she’d found that the tall rocky terrain suited her hookshot just fine, allowing her to swing from place to place with ease. She was still checking out the island neighboring her starting point when she faintly heard some mare scream. She started off in that direction, her hookshot-swinging eating up the distance. She came to another crossing of floating rocks and without breaking her stride she swung across halfway before landing in a cartwheel on a larger rock and then firing off her hookshot mid move to the other side.

Man she loved that thing.

She heard the mare scream again, this time much closer. If her opponent was attacking some poor mare she’d have some words with him.

Real strong words, she thought as she swung towards the next high rock. Mid swing she glanced at her saddle bag, ensuring that a good sized hammer was within easy reach.

Strong words indeed. She was now on the island itself, the mare couldn’t be far away.

Weird, she thought to herself. This island had floating rocks actually on it, unlike the previous two. She went to land on one but was surprised when she overshot it by good few yards, going much higher than she had planned. On a hunch she let herself fall, her hookshot ready for use if she was incorrect. Instead of plummeting to the ground, she floated idly by her exoskeleton like the large pieces of what she assumed where metal-rich rocks.

“Magnetism? Way cool!” she shouted.

She heard somepony nearby cursing along with several ugly snarls. Using her hookshot to grab hold of the nearest rock, she pushed off with her back legs and flew over the last rise, taking in the terrified mare with two ponies after her and some moron in full metal armor with a ridiculous old timey spear thingie floating in the air with a string of “profanities” that wouldn’t make her grandmother’s ears curl. He also had two scary looking grey ponies slowly coming up the rocks after him, but he seemed more concerned that he was floating.

“Wait, are you my opponent?!” she asked incredulously. With the stallion desperately trying to grab onto a rock and floating around he hardly painted the picture of a warrior.

“The mare! Get the mare! She’s got a foal with her!” he shouted back.

Right, right the mare. She shot off after her two pursuers vaguely wondering if she should’ve stopped to help the stallion or maybe conked him on the head right then. But he was concerned about the mare like she was, so Ember figured she’d let the poor guy get his hooves under him again.

And then she’d conk him on the head. But first…

She didn’t bother to pull a weapon on the first grey stallion. He and his buddy had the mare cornered so neither of them was expecting some mare to come smashing into them with her back hooves with all the momentum of her swing behind them, Daring Do-style.

The one closest to the rock’s edge was pushed off, yelling unintelligibly the whole way down. The second recovered and reared back, striking out with his forehooves. Ember dodged the wild swings with ease, responding with two lightning swift strikes of her own into the stallion’s unprotected midsection. With a snarl he was back on three hooves, the fourth clutching his bruised ribs. He looked up with a hate-filled glare only to take two kicks to the head in rapid succession. He was out cold before he hit the ground.

Her opponents subdued, Ember turned to the terrified mare.

Or rather the mare’s backside as she quickly made her way down and away from her. Ember could hardly blame her for not sticking around. She probably wouldn’t either if she had a foal with her.

A sharp battle cry brought her attention back to the armored stallion.

He’d managed to reach one of the uppermost large rocks, finally halting his trip to the skies. His chainmail comically stuck to some of the more metallic parts of the rocks. Ember would’ve laughed it weren’t for the ash grey stallion standing over him and the mare not far behind.

“Guess I should go save his hide too.” She turned her tail to fire her hookshot when she heard a strangled snarl accompanied by more archaic cursing.

The armored stallion had a leg around the crazed stallion’s neck, slamming his head down into the rock while pulling himself up. Halfway up, his free hoof shot to his chest.

At first Ember thought the bad grey had actually managed to bite him, but when the hoof came away she saw the flash of metal.

All Ember could do was watch, spellbound, as the soldier rammed the knife repeatedly into the exposed ribcage of the grey, still caught in his headlock. The grey screamed in pain and backed up dragging the armored stallion the last few feet up. With a savage headbutt, the armored stallion disengaged from the mortally wounded grey and turned to the mare coming rapidly towards him. He dropped his knife and moved his head towards something on his side opposite Ember.

As the mare pounced he turned his head, a large steel war hammer freeing itself from the armored stallion. In a clearly practiced move, the hammer made a perfect ark before coming down just in time to be introduced to the charging mare’s skull.

With a sickening crunch that Ember could hear, the mare went limp. Her momentum carried her past the now visibly blood spattered stallion and off the rock. The stallion didn’t so much as look at the life he’d just ended, instead swinging around to bring the hammer through the air behind him. He staggered as the weapon was met with no resistance.

He moved back, confused. Treading on the grey he’d stabbed, it twitched. In a flash its skull was caved in as well. He stood there, his sides heaving until he seemed to notice Ember watching him.

“Weren’t there more of them?!” he shouted looking around.

“No…and the mare got away OK,” she replied, trying to regain her composure while the stallion retrieved his knife.

“N-not much of fighters were they?” was the shaky reply.

When Ember didn’t respond, he felt the need to continue.

“I remember seeing you with the other fighters.”

“I’m a contestant, and the future winner.”

That got the stallion’s full, focused attention.

“I am Thunder Hammer. Before we continue I must ask, why are you here? What is your great wish?”

Ember saw no point in lying.

“I want to find my dream stallion, and I have quite a list! The perfect stallion... Make my fathers proud,” she declared proudly.

“Then let us tarry no—did you say fathers?”

“Yeah, they’re two colts in love, that a problem?”

While Thunder Hammer stood there trying to piece that statement together, Ember considered her options.

She was no fool, Thunder Hammer could easily crush her if she let him get too close. She needed to maximize her agility advantage. Her thoughts drifted to the canyon just out of Thunder Hammer’s view. An idea began to piece itself together within her head.

\—D—/

“I suppose now we try and kill each other, Miss…?”

“Yeah, I guess so. The name’s Ember by the way, seeing as you want to…get to know me better,” the mare replied seductively.

Thunder Hammer said nothing, ignoring whatever it was the mare was playing. He decided he’d give her the first move; he needed her closer and she had the mobility. If he wanted to go on the attack they’d have to move to more favorable ground. As it was, he already felt strange standing on a floating rock.

“Are we to fight here on these rocks?”

“Your call, big boy. But if you go that way, the magnetism drops off.” She gestured in the direction she had come from. She smiled as a frown crossed Thunder’s face as she said ‘magnetism’. “It opens up into a big clear area,” she added.

The stallion seemed to think about it for a moment.

“How can I be sure you won’t attack me as I make my way there?”

“Oh come on, TH. I promise I won’t do anything to you yet.”

She smiled as he pursed his lips, but started making his way down.

\—D—/

He couldn’t stay in this canyon Thunder Hammer knew. All the advantages lay with the strange mare and her damned tail device. Even as he thought this, he heard the sound of it striking into the mountainside. Turning his head towards the sound he realized his mistake when the mare swung into his front side giving him the full force of the swing through her back legs into his chest.

With a grunt, Thunder Hammer staggered back a few paces as his chest plate took the brunt of the impact. Realizing the mare was still directly in front of him, he turned his body rapidly, trying to bring his lance cracking into the side of her skull. Instead, she ducked it easily, coming back up with a left hook to his jaw. Thunder Hammer reared back, lashing out with one hoof while the other went for his dagger. He was rewarded with a solid impact to her side, but it wasn’t a telling blow. He tried a stab with his dagger but she danced lightly back, already firing off and escaping by her hook shot.

“Get back here coward!” he shouted angrily.

“You want me back already, Thunder? I hope you’re better with your ‘lance’ in—“

Whatever the mare was going to say was lost to Thunder Hammer as he muttered under his breath, resuming his run.

“Gutter-minded harlot.”

“I heard that ya know!” her voice called from above.

Thunder Hammer had the presence of mind to duck as she swung low over his head, clipping the brush of his helmet.

He was definitely a dead pony if he stayed. All it would take was one slip, one break in his defenses, or too slow a reaction and she’d have him. He turned a sharp corner and could see an opening in the canyon. He made for it, running what he knew about the mare behind him through his mind trying to think up the best way to defeat her.

Finally clearing the canyon, he made out the distinctive cliff line of his starting island. The floating steps he’d taken earlier couldn’t be far. If he could lure her onto that island, and keep her there long enough, the ‘magnetism’ would give him the chance to finish her off.

He headed for the steps.

This time around he had managed to clear them without much issue. Of course the fact that Ember had simply swung over to the other side and was waiting for him hadn’t help. She ducked his swings at her and in turn he narrowly avoided getting tripped up by her hookshot. After he ran past her, Thunder Hammer tore at the straps of his armor with his teeth, his flank armor dropping off. It mattered little, those could be replaced. He was fighting with his front shaffron now, as he heard a voice call seductively from above some ways behind him.

“Oooooh! Work it, Thunder! Want me to help you get that off?!”

Thunder Hammer ignored the rapidly gaining mare and her remarks. As long as she kept following him farther into this island he didn’t care. A strap gave way and another iron plate dropped behind him in the dust.

He threw another glance back at Ember and saw that she had stopped chasing him, not sure what her game was he began to remove his under barding, chainmail and all.

“As much as I enjoy the view, TH, what’s your play? What magnetic effect does this rock have?”

Has she really figured it out that quickly?

“Well I’m sure you thought you were pretty clever but I’m not sticking around to get zap-fried.”

Thunder Hammer searched his mind for something, anything to get the mare to stay. He doubted he be able to catch her any other way.

What had she said, she has two stallions as parents?

“Run then, coward! I’m sure your coltcuddling family would love to have you back.”

He hoped that would work, dragging up an insult he’d heard one of his former troopmates throw around.

Ember stopped in her tracks.

“Excuse me?” she asked, turning around. Her voice lacked the joking ‘bedroom’ voice she’d been using. There was something in her eyes that made Thunder Hammer very conscious of the fact he was unarmored.

“You heard me! Your excuses for fathers weren’t stallion enough to find themselves mares so they settled for each other.”

Ember’s eye twitched.

“And then they settled for you.”

Her eye twitched again.

Thunder Hammer saw Ember’s head dip back to her saddlebags, she brought it back up rapidly and he had the sense to jerk his head to the side. He had a brief inclination of something flashing past his muzzle, a stinging pain, and something warm dripping down his face.

Was that a screwdriver?!

He threw himself to the right as another tool came flying towards him.

“Take that BACK!” Ember shouted at him.

Thunder! Get in there! Sergeant Bastion shouted in his head. Other ghostly voices chorused their agreement. He pushed the voices aside, he needed to stay focused and keep his head. Ember just had to stay engaged until the island’s strange ‘magnetic’ power kicked in.

That was of course assuming he didn’t manage to kill her before then.

You’re giving ground! You’re giving ground!

They were right, he was giving Ember all the advantages. It was time to go on the offensive.

Thunder Hammer charged forward, his hammer held firmly in his teeth ready to smash the mare aside. He faltered only once as he brought his hammer into the path of an oncoming wrench. Too late he realized his mistake, as his movement deflected the wrench; it also blocked his view of Ember. In those few seconds Ember fired off her hookshot and darted a few yards away.

Thunder Hammer grit his teeth as a screwdriver dug into his side. Luckily it had little mass behind it and only stuck in a few inches, but it was enough. He felt the familiar sensation of blood running down his side, the sharp pain, the alarm bells.

Breath in.

His vision began to grow rosy pink at the edges.

Breath out. Someone cried out for a healer.

Ember was yelling again, her voice sounding far away and slow, like it was underwater. She went for her saddlebags again.

Breath in. Metal clashed around him.

Another tool was heading his way, spinning end over end.

Breath out, duck left. Phantom shadows were on either side of him, preparing to charge.

He was vaguely aware of whatever it was flashing past his right ear but he was more focused on the rapidly approaching mare with a heavy wrench in her mouth. Dancing lightly back, he registered the whoosh of Ember’s first few wild swings. Stepping into the fourth swing he launched an iron hoof into her chest, aiming for the same spot he’d hit before.

He felt something give. Ember’s attacks faltered as she took a step back trying to put some space between her and Thunder Hammer. But the old soldier wasn’t about to let her get away that easily. He pressed his advantage, not giving her the chance to recover, changing his grip on the war hammer in his teeth and bringing it across horizontally, just catching the side of her jaw.

She missed a beat but managed to bring a hoof swinging around into Thunder’s side. She might as well have hit the side of a house. Thunder feinted forward with a war cry, forcing her back a pace, then swung for her temple.

Ember ducked the head of the hammer, but the seasoned campaigner was expecting the movement. Rather than follow the swing through, he dragged the studded butt of the hammer into the opposite side of Ember’s skull.

There was a sharp intake of breath and Ember tumbled to the ground. Thunder Hammer turned to his next opponent, but there were none, no swirling phantoms, no dying ponies calling out for Harmony’s mercy, nothing. There was only one mare trying to remember how to work her hooves.

A pony, she was real.

Thunder Hammer’s breathing leveled out as the last images of war filtered through his mind. He stepped away from Ember; she was beaten.

Or at least Thunder Hammer thought her beaten. He smiled grimly to himself as he heard the rumbling of the ground. He hadn’t needed it after all.

His guard was down and that was when Ember seized her chance. She sent a hammer spinning end over end directly at Thunder’s unarmored head.

He saw it coming, it would arrive before he could move out of the way. The mare plaguing his dreams would live on without him.

Then the hammer abruptly dropped to the ground, dragging Ember along with it.

The mare vainly struggled on the ground, each of her limbs firmly held to the ground by the weight of her exoskeleton. She tried to fire her hook shot but it only traveled a few pathetic inches before being locked to the ground as well.

The victor walked towards her, wincing slightly as the wound in his side announced its presence.

Ember’s head rested on the ground, she giving up the fight with magnetism.

“If you’re going to kill me, do us both a favor and make it quick.”

“You’ve defended your…family’s name well and for that I cannot fault you. However, I’m sure you’ve heard the term ‘spoils of war’?”

Crouching down, he opened one of her saddlebags, searching for something to throw over the wound in his side. Seeing something white, he seized it and brought it out. It was a slightly weathered piece of paper, creased from multiple folds, bent in places. He unfolded the page on the ground to examine it better.

He snorted derisively.

“What filth is this?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve never enjoyed some things on the seamier side of life? Why now is the perfect time to try something, I’m…defenseless,” Ember said seductively.

Thunder’s attention was on the paper, his eyes going over each line, his mouth wrinkling further in disgust as he saw the inanity. The selfishness.

“Your wish, was this it?”

“Yeah, it’s the only way I can find the perfect stallion for me,” Ember replied. She felt the downward pull on her limbs subside a little. She didn’t draw attention to it.

“You… You were willing to fight?”

He crumpled up the paper in his hooves.

“To kill me?”

Now would be her best chance, his back was turned, and he was distracted. Her limbs still felt heavy, but her adrenaline surged and the added strength from her exoskeleton gave her the power she needed. She launched herself at him just as he turned to look at her with nothing but anger in his eyes.

Quite simply, he caught her. He spun, using Ember’s momentum against her to slam her into the ground. There was an audible crack along with a scream as one of her outstretched forelegs bent at an odd angle as it hit the ground.

“You would’ve killed me for such a pathetic and self-centered reason as this! Of all the ignorant, corrupt, and inane things—”

He didn’t even give the bloodlust time to overtake him. In a single move that he had done dozens of time in battle he reared back on his hind legs. He brought his hooves crashing down.

Her head gave out like a sparrow’s egg.

Thunder Hammer stepped away from Ember’s still form and spat.

She deserved no honors, he thought bitterly to himself as he wiped the worst of the gore off his hooves.

Without a glance back, he gathered up his armor onto his back and headed towards another rumbling that must have been the doorway out appearing somewhere.

He made it unmolested to the door, although a madpony attack wouldn’t have hurt.

It certainly would’ve lightened his mood.