Chapters Prologue: Skaian Summoning
Author's Note
T̟̤͉̞ͅh̭͉̠i̭s͍ ̰̞̹̤̦̬̣i̭̠̖̲̟̞͓s̟̭ ̤̻͎͕m̸̩̦̣̰ͅo̗͉̱r̫̮͚̞͙̹͕͘e ̙̬͙̳̖o̹̬̮̹̭͙f̡ a̛͇̖̝̜̝̦n҉̫̙͕͕̹ ̝͇e̞͓̩̻͓̫̥x̻pe͔̺͕͚r̘̼̣ͅi͜m̯̭e̳̙̱̪̟n̳͍̦͇͉̘͖t̡̻̣̮à̘̤̯̺̥ĺ ̫̲̯̹̳̥ș̼̘̺ṯ͙̼̯͜ơ̟r͇̼̰͙̺̤͝y.̴̝̩̺͕̮ͅ ̶͙̮̙͈͈I͏̜̟͔̥̪ͅt̖̱ ̞̗w҉̦͎i̷̪͔l̪͓̙͕͎̯l̙̬̗͔͈̩̰ ͍̭̜͎̻͍n̶̻̜͕̲̣o͍̜̳̙͈͖͖͡t̢̹͎͖͎̻̝ ̧̺̞t̡̠a̢̝k̖͎̤̖̝̥̖e̥̜ ̟͙͓͜p̪͉̬r̵͓̫͔̗e̴̪͔̺c̰͚͎̠̮͞e̻͕͘d̢̝̳̣e̺̻nc̖̘̻̙͕̻è̱͉̜̗͖̣͇ ̪͔̱̪f̛̤͖͓r̦͔om̻̠ ̷̪m̸̼y̲̘̲̤͍ ͓̳̠o̥̦͙t̛̝̮̮h̛e̮̱̼̤͎̲̼r̪̯̣ ͉̫̭̤̳D̗͜ͅi̻̖͍͓̪̟͟s̤p̧̖̬̤̳̼̣l̺̫̫̜͡a̱͓̮̹̰̰̰c͙̺e̯͖d͚ ̛̥̫s̟͘t͈̻̫̱͖̰͡o̡̝̰̣͉̟ͅͅŗy̮̙.̣̦͜S͙̘̕k͙̯͇̙a̮̦̤͇i̭͘a̞̤n̸̺̟̙̣ ̬̝̩̣͉̮̙͢S͚u̙̲̱̣̕m̫̯̻̼̰̮͉͘m̴̖̮̱o͇̠͖̜͔n̘̤̦͓̜͟iǹ̗̙̳͚͍̝͕g̛͍ .̪̤̞̻̝͍͖͢ ̘
Prologue: Skaian Summoning
How I got here, is a pretty loaded question, you know. It was a combination of factors that landed me here. Not even I am sure how it all came to a head. Where could I possibly start? The beginning, eh? Depends on what you’d call a beginning. Maybe the beginning was the incident even you must’ve heard of. Or maybe, the beginning was even before this whole thing happened, before I became who I am now? A good place to start as any, I suppose. It happened before any event you’d know of, when I was still a human in a silly costume, going to a con. You may call me Al. And this is my story of how I got here.
The con was great. The appearances, the cosplays... Even got an autograph from the Huss himself. Can I just say, AWESOME? Shame about not being able to use the other arm, though. But such is life when you decide to become Bec Noir. Hey, don’t diss me! Guy’s my favourite villain on Homestuck. Discounting the Lord himself, of course.
The cosplay was really well crafted, and no wonder. Took me almost a year to complete that thing! Nothing missing, either. The ripped clothing, the ring, the sword, even the wings... No blood, but I wasn’t going for a Post-Kids Jack anyway. Besides I could never get it to look right.
But then, I saw this vendor. Real ugly dude. I think. The guy was naturally in costume. But hey, the stuff! All sorts of things. And then, wonder of wonders, I spotted a pair of really well-made Bro glasses. It was obvious what my first thought was. Trophies!
I bought them, and they went on my snout quite snugly. No harm of falling off, no sir!
I’m not quite sure what happened next. All I know is, I was suddenly lying face-down on the ground.
I rose, feeling an odd sense of vertigo. If I look back to it now, I guess it was simply my reaction to a sudden change in my center of balance. But I digress.
My surroundings were completely alien to me. It should come as no surprise that my first thoughts were of dreams, or hallucinations. I shook them off as quickly as they appeared. Dreaming has a very specific feel, at least for me, and at this point I lacked it. Hallucination was a possibility I had also considered yet quickly discarded. Point of fact, while I had never personally ecperienced a hallucination, this... wasn’t it.
The ground was painted on various bright shades of pink and purple, darkened as if seen through a filter of sorts, while maintaining a consistent checkerboad pattern. There were various trees, or at least caricatures of them, scattered in the hellish landscape with scores of fish swimming between them. Yes, fish.
Chunks of the earth had been ripped from the checkered ground, floating around in a random pattern, speed, and even direction. If I squinted my eyes past my muzzle, I could see faint outlines of what could only be described as Lovecraftian Horrors drifting in space, as the stars were slowly rearranging themselves in a seemingly random pattern. I thought I maybe saw what could have been primitive letters, but I wasn’t certain.
I was still staring at my chaotic surroundings, when a detail made itself known to my confused mind once again.
...Muzzle?
I let my gaze slide downwards, before it found itself blocked by something long and black. A glance sideways found the ground suddenly vastly more brighter. I sighed and took off the Bro sunglasses that I had bought only minutes ago. The hellish landscape brightened, taking on bluer hues. I rubbed my eyes with my free hand, or at least tried to. The phantom movements were there, but it seemed my hand itself had disappeared. I took a closer look.
Seeing the stump wiggling around heightened the niggling feeling of suspicion. I replaced the sunglasses on my muzzle and looked at my intact hand. It was black and gleaming, the joints clearly seen from the carapace. The Ring of Orbs Fourfold was still on my pointing finger, with the change that the orbs were now floating freely. A glance at my wings, now larger and quite probably more powerful, only added to the feeling, the feeling that was compounded by the sword sticking from my chest.
I yanked the sword free, it easily detaching from my torso. With an almost detached feeling of curiosity, I looked at the reflection from the gleaming black blade.
A dog with a scarred eye glared back at me. I bared my teeth. The devilbeast mirrored my actions. With a sigh I replaced the sword. I had taken on the traits of my cosplay. Name’s Noir. Bec Noir.
To this day I’m not quite sure why I didn’t lose my cool on that little realization. Perhaps I knew that it wouldn’t do any good to panic? That flailing around like a headless chicken while on an alien planet in possibly an alien dimension was the worst idea that one could have? I haven’t a clue.
Besides, it’s not like I had no breakdowns whatsover. Take for instance when I first tried to fly.
Basically, I flapped my wings once, found myself high in the air, and screamed my head off. Begging and pleading not to fall, more or less. Needless to say, I ended up nose-first into the ground. Thud.
...Yeah. Not one of my proudest moments.
Following my first impressions, the planet itself had the strangest day-night cycle. I got a real shock when suddenly and without warning, the night ended and the moon in the sky was replaced with the fucking GREEN SUN of all things.
Well, it wasn’t exactly the Green Sun. It was actually a semi-normal sun painted green (with actual paint dripping off it, no less!) but when it did appear, then, well, let’s just say I wasn’t prepared for this, and leave it at that.
One of the first things I tried was taking the ring off. After a few unsuccessful tries (since carapacian fingers aren’t exactly the fine manipulation tools human fingers are), I managed to pull it off my finger with my teeth. It... turns out that I was Jack Noir all the way through. Can’t say I was expecting anything different.
The ring I put back on. It was better to be an unbeatable demon in an unfamiliar place than to be just a carapacian with a knife fetish and not a knife in sight. Not to mention, I looked all kinds of badass in that getup. The glasses truly tied things together.
I suppose though, the highlight of my first days was when I met the ruler of that strange land. And suddenly everything made sense.
Because there he was, just lounging on a wooden throne on top of a hill, in all his mismatched glory.
Discord, the spirit of Chaos and Disharmony.
It seems I was in Equestria.
A millennia early.
Chapter One: Fuchsia Ruler
Author's Note
Suggested listening: Fuchsia Ruler .
Chapter One: Fuchsia Ruler
Admittedly, while Discord’s presence may have been surprising, the fact that I now knew where and when I was calmed me considerably. However, “calm” and “cautious” are two entirely different things. After all, this was when Dissy was in charge. He wouldn’t be reformed for another thousand years, perhaps even more. Who knew what he could pull? I’m beginning to think not even he knew.
Anyways, we got talking. It was a little tense at first - I’m beginning to suspect that not even he knew how I got here, mostly because he treated me as if I was the real deal, and I was suspicious of his non-reformed nature - but eventually we hit it off.
Turns out we both shared the same brand of crazy, even though he thought all his stuff up himself and I got mine from a wide variety of popular culture.
...Okay, so I got my popular culture from the Internet. So sue me.
I gave him some delightful ideas about Joker Fish, and maaaay have given him some ideas for future chaos. Not gonna elaborate here, sorry. Some things need to be surprises, too!
Say, mind if I take a glass of water? I’m parched.
...Much better. Where was I? Discord. Right.
You know, from the comics and all the stuff I’ve seen on the show, Discord’s personality truly has taken leaps and bounds. Or he’s just gotten old. You can never truly tell with him, you know.
I expected him to be a more snarky Q. Instead I got a drama queen.
Not that I have anything against drama queens, of course! Heck, even I’m a drama queen, and a good one, too. So was he, point of fact. It’s just that... it was kind of a disappointment, you know?
Yeah.
Anyway, we left on good terms. I told him to say hello to the Princesses from me. Out of politeness, y’know? Heh. Turns out he hadn’t met them yet. I suggested he’d keep an eye on them. So what’s he do? Pluck an eye out. Funny enough, he had both fangs at the time... A mystery for another day, I figure. Never did find out how he lost that other one.
The next few... something were quite boring, actually. Discod hadn’t either implemented any ideas I gave him, or these implementations hadn’t reached me yet. There was however a shower of burgers (as in, a shower set literally made out of stacked hamburgers, and it sprayed ketchup and mustard) that I may have taken a few bites out of.
Okay, so I ate the entire thing. But it was delicious! I’m a growing Noir and--
Wonder when do we get any food around here?
Might as well keep on going, eh?
One thing that I managed was figuring out how to fly. Or, well, stay in air at any rate. I wasn’t that good in the early weeks, okay!? Sigh. Stop being so damn judemental, you don’t have any wings.
At least I was flying better than Twilight Sparkle, and no, you don’t know her. Inside joke, sorry. She doesn’t exist yet.
The other thing I figured out was the Red Miles. Not using that stuff again in a while, that’s for sure.three cubic miles of land, that’s why not! I prefer my living quarters intact, thankyouverymuch.
...You’ve derailed me again. ♫A little glass of water please, a fresh-pressed hanky if I sneeze...♪ What? It’s a song. Yes, Discord sang it, and no, he didn't do it yet.
No better cure for a parched throat than a glass of water. Hm. I’m drinking more liquids again. Which is... good, I suppose? I think. Oh well.
I met Discord again when I accidentally treated ponies to an impromptu display of the Miles. No pony could escape the Miles.
I stopped giving him ideas after that. I’d already given him plenty, and it was doubtful he’d want more.
Interestingly enough, after that particular encounter, my food supplies dried off. Before, I was always able to find something meaty to chew on, and something non-chocolatey to drink, but suddenly? Nowhere to be found!
I suppose it seemed that Discord had looked out for me after all, but I had no way to prove it. He wasn’t talking to me, and I wasn’t in a particular hurry to look him up again, either.
That particular snag in the food business however, meant that I had to find something else to sink my teeth into. For some reason, there was less and less wildlife around, no matter where I headed. All there was was chocolate rain.
Why didn’t I drink that ? Really, you’re actually asking that? It was chocolate . Chocolate is toxic to dogs. I was a dog.
...pardon?
Oh god, I am an idiot. You’re saying that all it took was to take off the ring... I’ve underestimated you.
You’re welcome, I guess.
I suppose that also explains why they were so angry, though. After all, I’d killed a sentinent being.
At least Discord and I made up afterwards, but..
Damn.
I suppose I’ll tell you what went on, later. I wish to sleep.
Good night.
Chapter Two: Beatdown (Noir Style)
I hunted a pony.
Admittedly, it was quite easy. All I had to do was teleport in (and can I just say how awesome that little power was?) and stab them.
What kind of pony was it? An unicorn. I wasn’t quite sure on the gender at the time.. Frankly, I didn’t care much. Couple of teleports later, I was sitting snugly in a tree and skinning a pony. You know, back home we had this little geek item thing, called “Canned Unicorn Meat”. I figure it was actually some sort of lamb, or perhaps a horse. Never got to have any, I’d only heard of it. But now? I got to have the real thing, except raw.
How’d it taste? Well... tough question, actually. It was delicious, of course. Bu the actual taste? I can’t really describe it. Certainly it wasn’t anything like Earth meats, with the possible exception of horse.
It was kind of a sugary meal. The blood provided an excellent drink and also covered any dehydration problems. Besides, I like having meat with a little something to drink with it. Human luxuries and all that.
You know, it actually felt quite liberating being Bec, especially considering how a, it was a chaotic time, b, there were no authority figures in sight which basically meant I could do whatever I wanted, and c, Dissy’s chaotic rule tortured ponies anyway. Who even noticed a few going missing to feed a hungry dog?
As I found out, someponies did notice. Two very specific someponies. Hey, how could I have known I ate a (kind of already former) student of theirs? None of the official material covered its existence! For all I knew it was just an OC or a random background pony!
Yes, I know everypony has a role to play, no matter how big or small, but I hungered. For meat!
As you can probably tell, our first meeting was less than stellar. Specifically, they caught me sitting in a tree, (with bones and entrails and stuff scattered all over the place) gnawing on a flank. It actually took me a while to notice them, since they were kinda busy gaping in horror and all that. So what do I do when I do notice them? Open mouth, insert hoof. Literally.
Well, It wasn’t quite that simple. First I break off the actual hoof and throw it somewhere behind me. Then I wave at them and ask if they want some. Which kind of shakes the horror off. And then I bite into the part which no longer had a hoof. What do they call it again? Fetlock? Thanks.
Naturally, the two don’t like that. Like, at. All. In fact, they’re pretty much unhappy with me for some reason. Is that truly a crime to eat when you’re hungry? Apparently.
Or maybe it’s that I ate a sentinent being. Eh. A bit iffy it was, but Need kinda overruled Morals. The little that I have.
Frankly, I only have a few morals I abide by. One, do not harm a child. That one is a little iffy, actually, and I myself determine what counts as “harming”. If you’d know what some parents on Earth get up to... of course you want to know. Not that I’ll tell. The list is too great and I’ve derailed enough.
Er... Another moral is never to rape another being. ...which is actually also kind of iffy. But if someone manages to break the first moral in conjuction with the second one, I’d slaughter them without question. That one thing is NEVER okay. NEVER!
Okay, okay, I’m calm. Well, there was that one time I had a third moral. Never kill unless you are absolutely positively 100% certain you can get away with it.did try using that during trial, but you can see how well that turned out.
But hey, at least I have something... right?
Wha-huh? Oh. Right. Battle with Celly. And Lulu. Man, if only I had access to some sort of a music player; it works best with the proper beat .
Anyws, the Alicorns immediately demanded that I dropped the corpse and surrender. I pointed out that technically, there wasn’t much of the corpse left and that most of it was on the ground anyway. It didn’t help. They attacked.
I must admit, their way of attack, while laughable from a tactical standpoint, was actually rather frightening. I mean, two ridiculously large Winged Unicorns, in the colors of Yin and Yang, jumping at you with the full intention to impale you on their Absurdly Sharp horns? Scary. Luckily for me, I hadn’t folded my wings; they were conveniently pointed up and all it took was a powerful flap to escape Death By Unicorn. Still scary tho.
I had enough time to discard the flank (which really was delicious, by the way) and draw my sword. So when they rearranged themselves to face me, I was already pointing the blade at them. We exchanged customary battle greetings.
Customary battle greetings? Well, they are basically when one party (them) hurls insults at the opponent and the other party (me) laughs derisively at the pitiful attempts at goading them. I mean, really, Yo Mama? Beg pardon, Thine Mother. Sad but true.
I don’t remember much of that first battle itself. I mean, come on! It was a long time ago, it was only first of many, and it’s not like I have a photographic memory or anything. What, were you expecting a Jack of All Trades? Sorry, mate. While the name I carry now is indeed Jack, I won’t be regaling you with many details there.
Anyway, it was a tie. They blasted spells all over the place and tired themselves out. I got singed all over the place, waved my sword around wildly, and tired myself out. And we both absconded. Me to a cave I’d found earlier, them to god-knows-where. And we both learned a valuable lesson.
Don’t fuck with an enemy you can’t predict.
So when I finish absconding and arrive to my destination, who do I find just sitting around in my cave, dressed to the nines, and grinning like the Cheshire?
Gee, who do you think?
Chapter Three: Omelette Sandwich
He’d redecorated. I could tell by the way that it was decorated at all. The meat was in the fridge, the tables were surrounded by the chairs, and everything had the overlying theme of Lovecraftian Horrors. Again.
I... questioned the sudden normalcy. The decór wasn’t exactly Discord’s style, was it?
Actually, it made perfect sense. The presence of electrical appliances was extremely rare in the show itself; obviously they didn’t exist yet in the past. The locals must’ve been scared out of their minds by the strange machines that didn’t respond to their magic, or showed images of horrors they simply couldn’t comprehend.
In other words, normal human technology that I found delightful. I think this is why he and I fit so well, discounting the times we were at odds. Yes, I know it’s contradictory. But such was Discord’s nature.
We were talking again, but it seemed he didn’t quite want my help anymore. I understood why. In part, it was the Red Miles I used suddenly and without warning, but in other it was the casual way I’d killed an eaten a pony. I’m not quite sure, but it might have made him a little unnerved.
He told me much about his exploits, even elaborating on the “discording” of ponies, and sharing stories of how he’d made them miserable.
We shared quite a laugh over it.
You seem surprised. What, did you truly believe me to be some sort of a “tragic hero” that got himself started down a Path of Darkness through overwhelming and “righteous goody-woody” use of Dark Majyyks? Hell naw. I’ve always been a villain. I just haven’t had a chance to show it much, you know?
Although, one detail he mentioned did surprise me. Apparently, he had gotten to a Doctor Whooves at one point. I have no way of knowing if he was the one behind the actual Discorded Whooves , or if the one I knew was a completely different Whooves. Frankly, I preferred the latter option. Who knows how much I could possibly screw over his timeline by my mere presence? Best not to think of it.
We even had a mock-competition on armwrestling. I think it may have spiralled out of an “one-handed” joke. Needless to say, he won.
Of course he won. I was an one-armed guy with the powers of an unbeatable demon, and he was a Spirit of Chaos. There was no question.
No, of course I wouldn’t have won...
All these arguments don’t matter, because they are the ones that make sense! This is exactly how he works! And if you try to keep him trapped in logic, you’ll end up with a mental paradox. Madness!
Madness...
Where was I?
Chaos. Right. It’s a force difficult to understand under the best circumstances, and it’s not always Discord’s usual brand of randomness that goes under that name.
It turns out I have plenty of chaos within to make for a pal with Discord. Not a good friend, of course; Chaos friendly with chaos does not a good combination make.
We parted once again on amiable terms, and I went out for a flight. There were still features of my new form to learn, and considering my rather comfortable nature, I didn’t want to go run around every time I felt hunger, could I? Stocking up was needed, and while Discord’s conjurations were delicious, they weren’t particularly good in the nutritional area. Meaning?
I needed cattle.
No, of course I wasn’t going to start kidnapping ponies again! I have standards, you know. Never kill someone unless you are absolutely sure you can get away with it, remember? I figured it worked the same for kidnapping. Unless I picked somepony who wouldn’t be missed, I had to be careful.
Which is why I stole a bunch of cows.
I teleported them near my cave, farm and all. Not too close, though; it wouldn’t do to have my location sniffed out that simply, eh? Besides, it’s more likely for them to blame Discord than me. After all, I supposedly only ate ponies, didn’t I?
While Discord was known for his disruptions in the peace and harmony. Olden days, golden days and all that.
Oftentimes I would find myself looking at the alien landscapes, thinking of ways to improve upon them. Too little fire and brimstone, too much pink and blue. While I admit it was an aesthetic combination, it was also kind of the point. Discord’s randomness only had so much to improve on. Too much, and it would lose his distinctive style.
My cows were a wonderful source of food. A single one could feed me for days! ...I don’t know why I said that. Maybe I’m getting hungry? It would certainly explain a sudden fit of randomness... Never mind. It’s not important.
Chapter Four: Derse Dreamers
Have I already told you about my first venture into the Dream Realm? No? Then why don’t I regale you.
Those very first days, I don’t remember my dreams. No wonder, even; Unless a dream is lucid enough and/or it touches a topic not easily forgotten, I don’t generally remember them vividly enough.
What kind of dreams do I remember? Well, there was that one about the land of the Fae, and where the dead go, but I kind of thought you were interested in this particular one?
Exactly. So why don’t I just go on with the story?
I could tell the dream was lucid. There was the particular feel I’d mentioned, and this was the one time I felt it again.
The dream itself seemed nothing special, or even anything particularly vivid, unless you count the fact I was wearing no ring there. All I had was the Jack Noir face, which naturally raised no concerns. I was dreaming, wasn’t I? What was I supposed to do, panic over not being human? It was a dream, mate. I just took it as normal and, frankly, I was a bit curious as to where this dream would go.
That curiousity was answered as soon as Luna showed up. She’s a dream-walker, isn’t she? I figured she must’ve become curious. No matter how many cats it may have killed, curiousity is a great power.
She was surprised at seeing me in this form, but for some reason she wasn’t hostile. Perhaps it was because she hadn’t seen me in nothing but the Bec Noir guise? It’s not like I had introduced myself in that particular meeting anyway.
Now that I knew I was in the Dream Realm, if only only dream-wise, I offered to set an ambiance. She told me I was welcome, as long as I was able to figure it out. So I found a music player somewhere and did so.
No, I can’t do so here. No dreams and all that.
Luna wasn’t expecting my sudden display. She told me she had only met a few ponies who were capable of such displays in dreams. Realizing that, as a pony, she likely wasn’t even aware of the existence of human electronics, I pointed out I wasn’t a pony and that her subjects likely don’t have access to such technology.
As expected, she latched onto the word “technology” and wanted to know who, exactly, I was. But I sensed an opportunity. I knew that she was rather hostile towards my demonic self, but I also saw that she was willing to be civil towards my deam self.
Dreamself ... no. Sorry, I was distracted by my own thoughts. Er...
Right. I told her I had once been a human, but had found myself transported to this planet wholly alien to my own. A world that just seemed not to make sense, and a realm operating by completely different rules. As predicted, the exiled princess symphatized. She promised to look me up again, and left, most likely to report to her sister about a stranded being that had most likely been abducted by Discord.
Surely you must see where this is going, my friend? I planned to build up her trust in the form of Jack, and if she ever stumbled upon me dreaming of myself as Bec, I’d either act ignorant and hope she didn’t have means of detecting dream signatures. And if she did, I’d act as if I was afraid of becoming Bec and liking it.
I did like it, but she didn’t know that, did she? I had devised a plan most devious. A plan that, if ever a success, would ensure both the continuity of the timeline, and pave a way for me to take over if the timelina had already been hopelessly corrupt. I mean, what’s the point in having future knowledge if the future you have knowledge of is, in fact, gone?
What was the plan? Surely even you can figure it out. But if you just want to hear it from the jack’s mouth, sure! I would build up her trust as Jack. It’s not like she knew what a human looked like, did she? In the meanwhile, I would increase the severity and viciousness of my villainous acts as Bec. And then finally, at the precisely right moment, I would reveal myself as both of them.
No, it wouldn’t have been that stupid! I have it all thought out. Friendship is Magic, and it connects to the Elements of Harmony the same way. The opposite of friendship? Betrayal. I figured that it would be so extreme she would be hard-pressed to trust anyone ater that. She’d see traitors everywhere, and when traitors would begin to crop up, she’d lose hope. She’d take on the mantle of Nightmare Moon as predicted.
Yes, I did say I had it thought out. However on the other paw; if the timeline had turned out to be corrupted, with my future knowledge no longer being useful, it would ensure that I would be able to slip into command easily. All it would take was another simple betrayal.
Shame that despite everything, it didn’t work. But that’s a story for later, hmm? I still have much to tell.
We did start meeting after that, and I kept going forth with phase one of the plan. I always managed to wiggle out from in-person meetings, though; I may have made it seem so that Discord was holding me captive. Shame I didn’t have much time to discuss it with Discord himself; he always seemed to be busy with something or other.
Oh hey, food’s here.
...tell me they’re kidding.
Wonderful. I need meat for cheese’s sake. What even IS that stuff?
I’ll tell you later what happened when I initiated Phase Two.
Chapter Five: The Lordling
My first proper attack after my first hunt (and perhaps the accidental Red Miles) took place in a small village. After all, I wanted to make sure I didn’t bite off more than I could chew, eh?
The little hamlet bore obvious signs of Discord’s interference. Several hills that couldn’t have been natural, floating structure I believed to be the town hall, upside-down houses and, of all things, Hot Wheels roads. If only I had a fitting car...
A car’s a vehicle you can drive. Not important now.
The town was populated with ponies, popcorn, and fish. I’m not even kidding. Roughly 53,7% of them were showing obvious signs of a discording (okay, so I made that number up just now, don’t pay any attention to that) and as such I mostly surveyed them.
Basically I just sat on top (or bottom) of the topsy-turvy town hall, and watched them go about their daily lives. I was also calculating their best mode of attack, and had chosen a spot well-in-sight of anypony. After all, this time I wanted to make sure not to shift blame to anyone but me, eh?
And notice me they did.
It started with a scream. I remember it rather well for once; it startled even me. One of the non-discorded ponies had seen me. Quickly enough, there was quite a crowd, with the discorded ones hanging back, not particularly interested in joining the herd. Perfect.
I started by standing and unfurling my wings to their greatest length. Then I started teleporting. I quickly fell into a pattern; 1) teleport behind a discorded pony, 2) gore them on my blade, and 3) rinse and repeat. My actions were noticed quickly enough, and that’s when the panic started. The herd was galloping out of town, hoping to put as much distance between me and them.
I slaughtered them. Nearly all of them. I left a scant few alive; after all, survivors were the best fuel for rumors of my terror. Seeing a job well done, I left, taking a corpse or two with me. Hey, that first unicorn was delicious, and the cows were getting a bit repetitive. Can you blame me for wanting something a little different every once in a while? I’m not made of stone, you know.
The attack was a success. The Whispers of the Land let me know that word of my terror had indeed reached the Princesses. So, with that out of the way, it seemed that my Plan was indeed working.
A meeting with Luna confirmed it. She spoke to me of the terrors unleashed by the "Demon Dog". So while I didn’t let on that I was indeed him, I regaled her with “a few tales of Human lore”. In other words, I told her what the actual Bec Noir got up to in his Roaring Rampage of Revenge. Man, the look on her face... There is only one time I have seen a better look on someone’s face. But that story is kind of for later. Besides, I’m sure you can guess. You’ve been following my story closely enough. You’ll figure it out, I’m sure.
While an attack was enough to garner attention, it wasn’t enough to keep it indefinitely. I knew I had to step up my game.
My next attack was a city of clouds. Not Cloudsdale or anything, but... kinda similar. I figured my wings could use a little exercise, and I could test out if I was able to stand on actual clouds as opposed to cotton candy clouds. That, and I wanted to know if Pegasus wings taste as good as chicken wings. What can I say? Ponies are delicious.
The city itself looked kind of normal, discounting the gravity anomalies. Anomalies... such a grown-up word.
Anyws, this time I decided to lead off the attack by upping the ante. I teleported in and grabbed a random Pegasus mare off the air, sinking my teeth into the firm flanks. Man, that plot. Juicy!
Still wonderin’ about proper food. The slop don’t count.
Naturally, my attack made waves into the city. They began screaming and fleeing as soon as the mare finally found her voice. Shrill as... something very shrill. Crazy dame.
I left her alive, of course; granted, it came at the cost of a flank (delicious, by the way), but at least she lived. Lived just enough to tell the tale of my slaughter, and no more. Is my timing good or what?
So what did I do next? Why, the very thing I promised to never do again, of course! I let the Green Miles rip on the city. Man the lightshow was awesome.
...There might’ve been craters.
...Lots of them.
Also technically the attack I promised myself to never cast again was The Red Miles, not the Green Miles. It makes sense, right?
Doesn’t matter.
The Miles did their job well. Clouds do not a Miles-proof material make. After all, if a simple buck or tornado can obliterate a cloud (or a bunch of them, respectively), what hope they would possibly have, to stand against the full might of the Miles?
Not even wisps were left. Only corpses; and the lone three-legged mare. I teleported her to the nearest city and left her there. Now, at least, rumors were sure to pick up, hmm?
It seemed that the Princesses also noticed. I had a close call when Luna caught me in a dream of me, in Bec Noir form, slaughtering her. Or an effigy of her. I was able to play it off as a nightmare.
On the plus side, I got to feed her a story about how “my kind” got their power from Artifacts, and how I feared that mine would turn me into a demon. I managed to make it seem as though we had no choice over Artifacts, or Alignments. Pure nonsense, of course, but she ate it up. And the apex of my plans crawled ever closer.
Chapter Seven: Moonshatter
There I was, having a chat with Discord about something. I don’t quite remember what the topic was. Probably something nonsensical as always.
I wasn’t wearing the ring; since as you might have seen at some point during my grandest story, I like to gesticulate when talking. It’s kind of hard to do when you only have one arm, so the ring was in my pocket.
And then, who would show up but the Princesses, wearing the saddlebags that no doubt contained the Elements of Harmony.
Heh.
Luna recognized me immediately. She was shocked. How could I, the supposed prisoner of Discord, be chatting about with such familiarity to the overlord? Elementary, my dear, I told her. Discord trusted me now, why would he suspect otherwise?
I think the great goof of a dragon must’ve suspected something. I wouldn’t know. All I did was stand aside and tell their Highnesses that he was theirs. I made sure to walk out of the blast radius after my announcement. No chances, eh?
Oh, but the look on his face? Priceless. I think that’s when he realized we’d never truly been friends.
Betrayal is a fun emotion.
His statue wasn’t nearly as triumphant as the one in the original footage, so to speak. He actually looked quite... broken.
After the Lord of Chaos had been defeated, I found myself glomped by a tearful Princess of the Night. She’d been so worried that the poor human she’d met in the dreamscape had been corrupted, or dead, or even lost to the horrible demon that eventually came to all humans.
That’s when Celestia twigged that wait a minute , something’s not right here. What demon? She’d met humans before, thanks to Star Swirl's shenanigans. Humans had nothing to do with demons. For that matter, what human? I looked nothing like one.
Luna was quick to point out that I had been transformed by Discord’s vile magicks. She still hadn’t realized.
I hadn’t changed shape after Discord’s effects on the world had been undone.
The jig was up anyway. But I was going for the maximum emotional impact. Poor pathetic waste of space, I told her. How truly unobservant of her, I said. Would she really think I, the one with connections to both Discord and The Slaughter, would tell the truth to an enemy of both? Did she really believe that after betraying Discord so callously, I was incapable of doing it again? Were we truly friends in the first place? Was I her friend?
Well, that last answer was simple. Of course I wasn’t. She was just a pawn to my goals. After all, I told her as I placed the ring upon my finger, she was already a pawn to all others. What’s one more master?
Oh, my compadré, you should’ve seen her expression as I transformed. Bronies across Earth would kill me upon seeing the face I’d caused. Who knows? I might have agreed with them once. Alas, we shall never find out.
So, it all boiled down to me and the Highnesses. One of them was in denial, and it sure wasn’t me or Celestia. It must be a sick joke, she said. I must’ve been already corrupted by the demon, she said.
Demon? I know not what you speak of. It is not like Celestia completely overthrew that little lie. Oh wait, she did.
Anger. How could I have done this to her? Did our friendship mean nothing to me?
Friendship, what friendship? No friendship here. Just a certainty that everything will go according to The Plan. Not my fault The Plan involved her as a pawn. Not like she isn’t a pawn to everyone else or anything.
Derailment. What do I mean by her being a pawn! She is no pawn!
Yeah, right. She is a pawn to her sister, she is a pawn to her subjects, and she is a pawn to me. Sure sounds like a pawn to me.
Celestia interrupts then. Her sister is not a pawn to her. I am simply trying to mess with her. To steer her mind away from what’s important.
I actually laughed, ya know? What Celly here was doing was a textbook example of pulling her weight and pawning Lulu around, and that’s what I told her. She shut up at that.
At that point, I felt that my plans were almost to a head. With a parting remark to Luna, reminding her that she would always remain unloved, even by those who would seemingly act sisterly towards her, no matter what she would do, I teleported away. It’s not like they could track me.
Chapter Eight: Blackest Heart
Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter. Chapter Nine: Trial And Execu͠t̢ion̨
Chapter Nine: Trial and Execution.
It was a routine attack by all counts:
Step One) Find a village,
Basically, attribute the blame for my attacks to Luna's potential, growing psychotic break.
Unfortunately, the plan didn’t work out. I was ambushed. Tricked. Decieved by my very senses..
...Okay, so I just picked the exact wrong target. But saying that I was ambushed and tricked sounds a bit more dignified.
At any rate, I did succeed in e3qwuhdfiao2340!#SYNTAX_ERROR
Skaian Summoning
...What just happened?
I gaze at the alien landscape looming before me. It is an absolute mess. It looks like reality itself decided to go on a picnic, and left this behind. Whatever this is. Am I dreaming? Is this really what my subconscious dreams up? Wow. I think I may need help. Because this stuff over here? This is trippy.
There’s something gnawing at me. Have I forgotten something? Not surprising. Dreams can pull that kind of shit. I crack my neck and stretch my wings. Er. Wings? Yep. Apparently I have wings now. Nice. Is this one of those dreams where you suddenly discover you have wings, go on a flight, and then discover you don’t have them anymore? Guessing this’ll probably end with me falling out of bed in the morning. Sheesh, when was the last time I fell out of bed anyway?
Classifying the train of thought as irrelevant, I decide to wander the hellish landscapes. If my mind decides to dream up something crazy as fuck, why not go exploring it?
I spread my wings, flap them...
And immediately lose my balance, faceplanting to the ground. Welp. Looks like no flying in this dream for now. Oh well. Say, is it just me or is my face a bit, er, longer? Not like a horse or anything, but animalistic nonetheless?
I attempt to push myself off the ground. For some reason, my left arm refuses to cooperate. A sideways glance shows why.
I don’t have a left arm. It’s just a black stump, cut off from the shoulder. Huh. Why am I dreaming of being an amputee? This is a strange thing to dream about. In fact, well, while it is true that I have had many strange dreams, and that the rest of this dream is just about equally strange, I can’t help but be slightly more disturbed by the lack of an arm than I, dream-logic-wise, should be.
As I prop myself up on my right arm, dropping the armless train of thought for the moment, I notice a ring on my finger. Am I married here? No. This isn't a marriage ring. This is a magical artefact, if I know my tropes. I'd like to think I do. But for some reason, something seems awfully familiar about this ring...
But my mind is filled with haze. I suppose the dream is railroading me somewhere, actively preventing real-world memories. This is slightly more worrying, come to think about it. Is my brain playing a prank on me, or is my subconscious more poweful than I thought?
This train of thought also fades into the background, bringing me back to my body issues. Hm. Is that what they are? Issues with my body image? I sure do hope not. My self-image shouldn’t be THAT crippled. ...Is it?
Well. It should probably be comforting that I am as scatterbrained as ever. The more things change, the more they stay the same.
And speaking of change...
The arm-stump and the wings are not the only changes from my normal, non-awake person. I’m now lean, mean, and covered in shiny black carapace. My wings, slightly resembling that of a crow, or a raven, are large, intimidating, and, you guessed it, shiny black. I have a muzzle now, and my ears resemble dog’s ears. Upon closer facial examination, I have a scar running what is most likely through the lids of my right eye, and slightly beyond.
I wear a garish, ripped piece of clothing that probably belonged to a jester once, and on my muzzle are a pair of Kamina shades. There’s also a sword going right through my chest. In short?
I hate to say it (actually, no. no I don’t), but I’m a freaking badass in this dream. Like a dog version of Sephiroth, or something like that. And why do I feel like I know this form?
A faceplant or three convince me that flight is still a big no-no at this point of the storyline. But hey, that’s okay! Even if I’m a badass winged, if ground-bound, wolf (whose name I’ve probably forgotten) in this dream-conjuration of mine, that doesn’t mean I won’t be able to fly later in the story, right? Heh. It’s just like that one time I started out as the Doctor, and ended up teaming up with Hermione Granger to burn...
...
...something down. I’ve forgotten what exactly. Someone’s house, I think.
Why the fuck is this dog thing so goddamn familiar? Where do I know it from?
A problem for another day. I set off towards the green (wait, seriously?) sun, occasionally spying odd, tentacled creatures visible as a backdrop in the sky. Might as well find out where this dream goes, eh? I know the tropes well enough. I’m sure I’ll find something.
Author's Note
Chapter ###: Meg҉ąlo̧v̸̢͘a̷ńi͜a̢͢͞
Megalovania.
The landscape is truly a marvel. As I’m heading towards the sun, I cannot help but notice the little details. The various fish swimming between the trees - I can’t help but notice a few of them remind me of the Jokerfish; the patches of land just floating into various directions; the ground made of cotton candy at places. I think at one point I even saw some chocolate raining up.
Before long, I come across a wall of rain. Specifically, rain of what looks like liquid silver food mist, raining sideways. Quite the novelty, eh? A finger poked into the odd mass has me jerking it back in a sharp pain. That’s a no-go, it seems.
Hmmm.
I think I saw something like this in a cartoon once. A rain labyrinth. All I have to do is find an opening, and then navigate the resulting maze. A glance shows me that the wall of rain is curving inwards, toward something. Aha. There’s something in the middle of this probably-circular maze of rain, then. That goes a long way towards explaining why I can’t fly yet in this dream. My guess is that there’s a secret trasure, hidden in the middle of this labyrinth, that grants me both with the power of flight, and a leg to the next quest.
I smile. I love quest-dreams. I really hope I won’t be waking up soon. This looks like a fun one!
I start walking in tandem with the falling rain. Logically speaking, I should be moving towards the direction it’s falling from, but since when has this dream been logical in any way shape or form? I follows a set plot, yes, but that does not mean it has to follow the logic of physics. The landscape around me is a proof of that!
I gave him some delightful ideas about Joker Fish, and maaaay have given him some ideas for future chaos. Not gonna elaborate here, sorry. Some things need to be surprises, too!
...where did THAT come from? Who did I give ideas to? Why am I not elaborating to myself? Dammit, brain! This sounds like something fascinating! Why am I not remembering it?
Oh hey, entrance. I turn and step right into the maze, making sure to tuck in my wings. Man, I can’t wait to use them.
The silvery rain seems to be guiding me towards something. Odd. When this normally happens, isn’t it an indication of a trap?
...
...I just answered my own question, didn’t I.
I turn around. Crap. The way back is blocked by an impenetrable wall of rain. And yes, it IS impenetrable. I checked. Ow. I gaze towards the suddenly more and more ominous section of the maze. If this is a trap... Well, I’m dreaming still. I hope. How bad can it possibly be?
As I stare at the laughing chimera on a throne that just screams ‘evil’, I am thinking up metaphorical ways to smack my past self. Phrases like, “Nice going, Clarkson” and “Yes, I’m suuuure Murphy isn’t a vengeful god” spring to mind.
I draw my sword from my chest, hoping I’ll at least know how to work it. The chimera stops laughing.
“Oh, do you honestly think you can fight me? ME?”
As I nod resolutely, reasoning that it must be a final boss, it lets loose with more laughter.
“You IDIOT. As if I won’t be taking any precautions after you so heartlessly BETRAYED me? Ha! Don’t you have anything better to do?”
I blink. What? I betrayed him? When? ...probably at some point during the backstory. I’ll play along. He’s an obvious Evil Boss.
“I can’t fathom anything that would be better than defeating you. Why would I ever work together with the likes of you?”
He looks devastated at that. Perhaps that was the wrong answer? Books and their covers, and all that? He narrows his eyes at me.
“When was the last timeser3w45#MALFUNCTION
“Well, basically, they sentenced me to Tartarus for eternity, and here we are,” finished Al. Or Bec. He never called himself Al even once during his story, so Tirek doubted some of his claims a little. Frankly, he doubted most of his story.
Bec had gone all over the way to play himself up as the villain. He was most likely trying to justify whatever actions had landed him as Tirek’s cellmate. Not that the centaur minded. Serial murderer or not, Bec was shaping up to be a good enou4t5h7g5#SYSTEM_OVERRIDE
As I nod resolutely, reasoning that it must be a final boss, it lets loose with more laughter.
“You IDIOT. As if I won’t be taking any precautions after you so heartlessly BETRAYED me? Ha! Don’t you have anything better to do?”
I blink. What? I betrayed him? When? ...probably at some point during the backstory. I’ll play along. He’s an obvious Evil Boss.
“I can’t fathom anything that would be better than defeating you. Why would I ever work together with the likes of you? ”
He looks devastated at that. Perhaps that was the wrong answer? Books and their covers, and all that? He narrows his eyes at me.
“When was the last time you remember meeting me?”
I don’t ever remember meeting him. I keep my eyes narrowed and my mouth shut. Somehow, though, it sees through my attempts to conceal my answer. It furrows its bushy eyebrows.
“Something is not right here. Last time you definitely knew who I was.”
“I did?” I sheath my sword. He's correct. Something’s wrong. “When?”
He nods. “If you truly are who you claim, you should be able to know.” He pauses. “Wait. You haven’t even introduced yourself, have you? Nor have I.” He teleports right in front of me, extending a paw. “I’m Discord. Discord the Draconequus.”
I stare at the paw, before extending a hand. “...Call me Al.”
Author's Note
I'm on a roll again, and nothing seems to make sense anymore. What do you lot think?
Chapter Six: Skaian Skirmish
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.
