Cheating the Cycle of Life- A Padded Pony Collab

Across a field of hardened lava, and black rock, an armored figure stood. His armor was a steel, polished still the sun reflected off it. A mini mana-launcher, a magic firing crossbow, was strapped to his right forehoof, pleather meeting steel. A small buckler was attached to the other. A small cape was attached to his back. He was Sir Thunderland, Fancy Stallion of Cornwood, greatest knight of the realm. He had been sent to face a mighty daemon in the bowels of Mount Crag. A crinkling sound could be heard under his armor. For all his perfections, the knight had one flaw. Well, two, the first was his weak control over his bladder, and the second was his bullheadedness.

“Onward!” The padded knight yelled skyward. His armored hooves clacked against the stone. Hissing jets of volcanic gas surrounded him, but he was not afraid of anything. Well, anything except fruitcake, especially Nana Thunder’s fruitcake. That caused even the bravest soul to quiver in their boots. Shaking his head, the Knight of Cornwood continued on. Passing through a crumbling arch constructed of some dark material, possibly the very ebony and obsidian that he trotted upon. He descended deeper and deeper into the mountains. Thankfully there were torches around him. He breathed into the air, the helmer covering all of his head, save for his eyes, nose, and mouth. “You can do this, you are a Knight of Cornwood!” He steeled his nerves. Granted, that did not stop some urine squirting into his diaper.

He soon came into the main chamber. On a narrow bridge, he came upon the foul hellspawn. It was coated in lava, but its brown, dirt like skin was clear. Its eyes, in the shapes of cherries, pears, and whatnot stared at him. “Fruitt Kakas, your time is nigh!” He raised his launcher. “I, Sir Thunderlane, shall-” He was cut off as he was crushed by one of its banana like arms. He could faintly make out the words YOU DIED appearing in rust colored letters appearing before he faded.

Thunderlane snapped awake, wiping the drool away. His own diaper, sodden, crinkled beneath him. He grumbled, “Stupid fruitcake.” He muttered. He had once again fallen asleep at the counter of the Adult Foal store he volunteered at.