Noirscape

I learned a downside to my carefully-earned reputation for slaughter in a few months’ time.

The ponies had designed a summoning ritual. A cruel one, even by my standards. And this is how I found out.

Out of practically nowhere, I found myself standing in a circle. A summoning circle if I ever saw one, with dribbly candles and red lines, and a bunch of runes too. Before me stood an altar with mutilated remains of a foal on top of it. And there were hooded ponies everywhere.

Naturally, I immediately demanded answers. I didn’t like them. Not one bit.

The cultists had devised a way to summon “The Slaughter” (cool title, by the way) by applying ritualistic slaughter of a virgin between the ages of... I forget, to be honest, but the upper limit was a single digit number.

Anyway, they decided that the best way to ensure the summonig was to forcibly alter the “virgin” state mid-rite. Hah. Ya remember my Rules. Ya remember the combination I swore I despised. That I still despise, by the way.

The Rite of Slaughter (I’m not even kidding, that’s what they named it) was meant to summon me and me specifically from wherever I was hiding, to slaughter everyone in the area who didn’t agree with my rules. The damn fools had deluded themseves. They break the only rule I followed to the letter, during my entire reign of terror, and they believe I would spare them? Yeah, right.

The rage I felt at that point... It’s impossible to describe, or even recall properly. The closest possible term, however? Bloodrage. By the time I was finished with them, there was no bigger piece than a drop of blood left. I’d pulverized them with nothing but my sword, and possibly teeth.

The foal, I buried. It seems that while mass murder is pretty much okay, since the numbers all bunch together in a while and become just numbers, singular killing leaves a deeper impression. In some cases, that is. After all, the first pony I’d killed was nothing more than food. But this? This struck a chord, for some reason. If only I could recall why...

The rituals started cropping up more and more often. Each time I found myself in a summoning circle, I questioned them and then slaughtered the lot, before burying another foal. Eventually, I dropped the questioning part.

By then, my infamy somehow managed to precede itself. I blame the chaos. However, all good things must eventually come to an end. And this includes the aforementioned chaos.