Chapters The Life and Times of Literary Scroll
“Hello?”
The sandy earth pony with the dark brown raggedy mane knocked at the door in front of him again, looking around cautiously.
“Hello, is anypony there?” the pony asked again, knocking once more.
His name, or rather, my name, was Literary Scroll. Columnist, writer, and at this point, roommate.
Or at least, potential roommate, if someone ever got around to answering the door. A few days ago, I had hit a road block. The normally inexhaustible supply of random ideas that flows through my brain on a daily basis had, for some reason, dried up. No creative ideas, no stories, no money. I needed inspiration, fast. So I packed up, and shipped out to Ponyville (having already found a roommate ad in the local rag), and now I was standing on this pony’s doorstep, waiting.
There was a sound from inside, next minute the door opened revealing one of the most unusual ponies I had ever seen. The pegasus was pure white, with rainbow streaks in her styled mane and tail. But what was unusual were her eyes, the right one was a wonderful crimson, but the left one was shocking violet.
“You must be Literary Scroll,” she said, glancing at my flank. I wasn’t surprised, there had to be many ponies with a quill cutie mark, but how many had a mark where it ended with a key head?
“And you’re Spectrum?” I replied. The mare smiled.
“Do come in,” she said. As the she turned inside I caught a glance of the pony’s own cutie mark, it was a geometric shape of multi-coloured triangles, with a single pure white one in the middle. I marvelled, not for the fist time, at the way ponies’ names and marks always seem to line up perfectly. It was as if it were some sort of narrative convenience.
Several cups of coffee and some getting-to-know-each-other-as-potential-roommates later, I had discovered (perhaps, unsurprisingly) that Spectrum was an artist. She took commissions for artwork and had a secondary line as a design consultant. She could paint, but her main pleasure was drawing, especially abstract. However, not many ponies commissioned abstract work so this area of her talent was reserved as a hobby.
“So, what do you think?” Spectrum asked as our last topic of conversation (digital graphics, another area of her expertise) petered out.
“What?” I responded, confused as to what she was referring to. The pegasus smiled again.
“Do you want the room?”
I nodded. “Yes please.”
Spectrum got up, “Then, Mr Scroll, we have a deal.”
* * *
A week later, I had moved into the extra room in Spectrum's house, along with a few good books and some other paraphernalia.
I was in the living room, trying to devise a limerick with as many Ws as possible when Spectrum looked up from the book I had lent her and looked at me.
“You, my friend, need to get out more,” she said, staring at me over her reading glasses.
“I get out,” I said, surprised.
“No, you go outside,” Spectrum corrected. It was true that I went outside regularly, I enjoyed walking and always seemed to have my best ideas while doing so. “What you don’t do is get out. I have never seen you talk to anypony unless you had to, and even then you said as little as possible.”
I frowned. “I talk to you,” I said. “I talk to you quite a lot.”
“Yes,” Spectrum conceded, “But you only started talking to me after I had been talking to you for at least five minutes,” she continued. “You only talked to me after you got comfortable around me, and as quick as that was, you never give anypony else that opportunity.”
Much like her, I conceded this. It was true that while I may be clever with a quill, I have the social confidence of a whelk in a soufflé.
“And so, to this end,” Spectrum said, “you are coming with me when I visit some friends this weekend.”
“But…” I tried, taken aback. I stopped when I saw the look on her face.
There was no debating this.
* * *
And thus I found myself, once again, standing on a doorstep waiting to be let in. But this time I was not alone, Spectrum was standing beside me, the pegasus a good two hands shorter than myself. She knocked.
The door was answered by a dark brown pony with a wild hay coloured mane and a hammer cutie mark. Standing behind him was a female pegasus with a light brown coat and a short, chocolate coloured mane with small yellow streaks in it.
“Hello,” Spectrum said, “guys, this is Literary Scroll.”
“Hello,” I said. Automatically.
The hammer flanked pony scrutinised me for a moment, before turning to the pegasus behind him.
“Whaddaya think?” he asked.
“Lit,” the mare replied.
“Five bits says it’s scry?”
The mare nodded. “Y’er on.”
This little conversation completed, the stallion turned back to my puzzled expression.
“ ‘Lo Literary, I’m Hoofcraft,” he said, before jerking his head at the mare behind him, “an’ this is Peregrine.”
The mare nodded. “Everyone inside, there’s sandwiches.”
There were indeed sandwiches inside the house, mustard and cress ones. Although according to Hoof there was apparently one peanut butter sandwich in there, as a booby trap.
“So, Literary,” Peregrine started once they were all seated. “What do you do?”
I sighed inwardly, it was going to be one of those conversations. The ones where I wasn’t allowed to just sit in the corner, carefully avoiding talking to anypony.
“I’m a writer.” I said.
“A writer? What kind of writer?”
“Fiction.”
“What kind of fiction?”
I sighed inwardly again, definitely one of those conversations. But before I could answer, Hoofcraft cut in.
“Peregrine, fiction’s fiction, there’s only one kind,” he said.
Now, there is something that others should know about me. Like a coin, my verbosity has a flip side. Normally I barely say anything, but if you line me up right, you can't shut me up. And Hoofcraft's last comment had teed up the ball beautifully and then offered me a selection of clubs.
“Actually, there are many types of fiction,” I started, my terminal shyness evaporating like smoke. “Comedy, romance, action, adventure, horror, personal…” Hoofcraft seemed slightly taken aback by the sudden increase in confidence in my voice. “…and contemplative. Oh, contemplative . Such a powerful tool! The ability to weave any situation or concept into a narrative where the normal rules of reality can be safely abandoned, where what is possible can be warped beyond recognition, allowing concepts to be pushed to ridiculous extremes. Take Fallout: Equestria. Kkat weaves a brilliant narrative, with multiple layers of subplot, all of which tie back into the main narrative. While at the same time, exploring such concepts as good and evil, right and wrong, showing how even the greatest of virtues can be corrupted, and blurring the line between the light and the dark to the point where the reader can no longer tell what the right choice is.” I was winding down now, my speech slowing. “It’s brilliant, if violent. A piece of post-apocalyptic splendour.”
Peregrine's mouth was hanging open, Hoofcraft was sitting in stunned silence, Spectrum was staring at me with pride glistening in her eyes.
Hoofcraft was the first to break the silence.
“Well, that’s put me in mah place,” he said. He glanced at Peregrine and chuckled. “Ya tryin’ ta catch flies there Par?” The pegasus’s mouth snapped shut. She shot a look at Hoofcraft.
“So, what do you do?” I asked Peregrine, more confident after my monologue.
“Mooches off me, mostly,” Hoofcraft answered, ignoring Peregrine's glare, “an’ ah build an’ repair pretty well everything ‘round here,” he continued. “Ya may have seen th’ large shed on th’ way here?”
I nodded, the house was on the outskirts of town, and as such it was almost impossible to miss the huge, barn sized shed that neighboured the house we were in.
“Well, that’s mah work shed,” Hoofcraft said, leaning back on his chair with another sandwich in his mouth. His eyes widened suddenly before his face settled into an expression of reassignment.
“Peanut butter,” he explained.
As Hoofcraft was trying to lick the peanut butter off the roof of his mouth, and as Peregrine ribbed him for putting the sandwich in there in the first place, there was the sound of the front door opening and closing.
“Wah-” Hoofcraft managed to get out before a dark brown mane-spiked pony entered the room, with a pair of red headphones hanging around his neck.
“Waveform!” Hoofcraft said, exasperatedly addressing the newcomer. “Ah thought ah told ya ta knock before comin’ inta mah house!”
“Yes,” Waveform said shortly, turning to myself and Spectrum. I marvelled once more at the way a ponies cutie mark and name always seemed to line up, as Waveform's cutie mark was, in fact, a waveform.
“Uh… Waveform, this is Literary Scroll,” Spectrum said.
Waveform eyed me for a moment, before turning directly to Spectrum, saying: “Lit.”
There were soft exclamations of victory and defeat form Hoofcraft and Peregrine's end of the table, and the sound of bits changing hoofs.
“Spec, I need a word about the banner commissions,” Waveform said.
Spectrum sighed. “Now?” she asked, before pre-empting his response. “Yes, I’m coming,” she said, getting up.
“I’d better go too,” I said thoughtfully. “I’ve had a few ideas that I need to get down on paper.”
“All right,” Hoofcraft said, turning to Peregrine. “Can you stay? I need some help with a shelf.” he said, gesturing at the offending pile of wood in a corner. Peregrine sighed.
“All right.”
Goodbyes where exchanged, Spectrum and Waveform leaving at a tangent to myself. I thought for a few paces before reaching into my saddle bag for quill and paper.
Blast! I thought. I must have left them at Hoofcraft's.
I returned to the house and entered through the still open door. As I walked down the hall I could hear the sound of Hoofcraft and Peregrine fumbling with the shelves.
“Damn!” Peregrine said, one end of the shelves collapsing. “Hang on.”
I froze in the doorway as a plume of emerald fire enveloped the pegasus, completely obscuring her for a moment, before fading to reveal a blackened and pockmarked form, with bright blue eyes, insectile wings, and a glistening black horn.
Peregrine, was a changeling.
Author's Note
OCs are mine, Fallout: Equestria belongs to Kkat, MLP:FIM belongs to Hazbro.
The Life and Times of Literary Scroll
Chapter 2 - The Problem With Changelings.
“Here we go,” the not-Peregrine said, levitating the shelves into position with her changeling magic. Her voice was recognisable, but raspy and metallic, with a slight slur from her not inconsequential fangs.
“Thanks,” Hoofcraft said, hurrying to screw the shelves to the wall. I left quietly before they could spot me.
A changeling! I thought as I hurried back to Spectrum's house, notepad and quill quite forgotten. Nopony’s seen a changeling in years! Not since the invasion! I have to tell the royal guard!
I skidded to a halt and sat down in the middle of the deserted road. No, that’s not right, I need to think this through carefully. Hoofcraft was totally at his ease, and if he was a changeling he would have either transformed to put the shelves up himself, or he would have chastised Perr-… not-Peregrine, for revealing itself.
I got up again. And I can’t think of any reason for the changelings to work with anypony they could just replace, it doesn’t make any sense! I need to think about this.
* * *
“Good morning.” It was the next day, whatever the Waveform pony had wanted, it had taken him and Spectrum all afternoon.
“Morning,” I replied, choosing my next words carefully. “Question?”
“Yes?”
“Did you notice anything, strange , about Peregrine yesterday?”
Spectrum looked at me, her eyes narrowed slightly. “To what are you referring?”
“I can’t remember, perhaps you might know?”
Her eyes narrowed further. Well, time to release the parachute!
“Ah, I remember what it is now!” I covered quickly. “Actually, it was Hoofcraft as well, what was that business when you first introduced me?”
Spectrum smiled, some inner tension evidently released. “Oh that, that was a bet,” she said, turning back to the cereal bowel she had been filling. “You see, Waveform has a habit of giving people nicknames, I’m Spec, Hoofcraft is Hack…” she turned back to the table and sat down with her cereal, “…Peregrine is Par, and Extralateral is Ex, he even nicknamed himself Wavs.” She waved her spoon at me. “There’s usually at least two nicknames he might give a pony, so your name ‘Literary Scroll’, could be Lit, or Scry. He chose Lit, and evidently Peregrine won the bet.”
“Ah, that explains Waveform’s reaction to being introduced as well, thanks.”
“Any time!” she replied, grinning around her cereal.
* * *
Ok, I thought, having escaped the room, so she knows about Peregrine, and she's ok with it, but doesn’t want me to know about it. I can’t imagine she’d mean anypony harm, unless she’s the world’s best actress, and judging by that performance out there, she isn’t. I paced. I trust Spectrum, I think I can trust Hoofcraft, the question is, do I trust Peregrine?
I stopped in the middle of the floor. Wait, if she’s here then that means… unless she… that would explain… but how would I… of course! Aloud, I said: “library!” then grabbed my saddle bags and took off.
* * *
I stared at the Ponyvile librarian before me, I didn’t know what I’d expected, I just knew that it wasn't a small green and purple dragon happily sucking a ruby.
“Hi! ” the dragon said, swallowing the ruby.
“Hi…” I replied, still staring at the dragon. It sighed.
“You want an explanation.”
“I do?”
“Yes, you want to know why a purple baby dragon is a part-time volunteer at the Ponyvile library.”
I flushed. “Yes, I was wondering that.” The dragon grinned at me.
“Don’t worry you’re hardly the first, and by no means the rudest. Basically, I act as assistant to the mare who used to run the Ponyvile library, then, after the whole ‘Terek’ business, there was a… shift , and she was no longer in charge of the library. She doesn’t need an assistant as much anymore, so I do part time here as a librarian, brings back a lot of good memories.” He smiled at the books around him, then looked back at me. “But that little story’s not what you came for is it?”
I mentally shook myself. “Yes, do you have a list of Ponyville residents?”
“Yep! This way,” the dragon said, leading me down the rows of shelves to a collection of books marked by year and pulling out the most recent one.
I flicked through the book and quickly found what I was looking for. Turning to the unnamed dragon, I said; “OK, now do you have a list of Flank residents?”
The dragon nodded and grabbed another book from a higher shelf and handed it to me.
I flicked through the second book and once again found what I wanted, a relieved smile appeared on my face.
“Thanks, Mister…”
“Spike,” the dragon answered, waving away the thanks. “No problem.”
I was out the library door before I stopped. “Wait, Spike?!”
* * *
As I made my way home (head still reeling slightly from the fact that I had just met the assistant of the Ailacorn princess Twilight Sparkle), I saw what looked like the start of a race being set up. A number of pegasi where lining up under a banner that had been set up across the street, the group included Peregrine.
I spotted Spectrum, accompanied by Hoofcraft and a bored looking Waveform, standing beside the start/finish line, and wandered over to them.
“What’s goin’ on?” I asked.
“We’er ‘aving a race is whats goin’ on,” Hoofcraft answered. “Just a friendly one between th’ local pegasi.”
“You going to bet on who’s going to win?” I jibed, remembering his bet with Peregrine.
“Nah, I’m goin’ to bet on who's goin’ to come second, tha’ Rainbow Dash ‘as odds o’ 1-1 ta win, so it’s just a question of who’s going to come next.”
I grinned to myself as I made my way past Sugar Cube Corner, where two royal guards emerged weighed down with packets of cupcakes as an energetic pink mare jumped up and down on the step behind them. “Come back again soon!” she cried, and then; “OHHHH! Race!” before taking of towards the start/finish line.
I rounded the corner as from somewhere behind me the pink mare screamed; “Three! Two! One! Go!”
There was a sound like a cannon blast as a cyan mare shot past me and up over the trees, a rainbow trail streaking behind her. Then the other competitors flew past, Peregrine in the lead as the cyan pegasus pulled a huge loop-de-loop through a ring of cloud that had been positioned over the trees, then she came back down, just as the other pegasi were reaching the start of the loop. The rainbow maned mare tore through them, barely avoiding a collision, but her wake was enough to knock Peregrine into the trees. She crashed through the foliage before slamming head first into a tree trunk, the illusion spell she used broke, enveloping her in green fire as she shifted back into a changeling.
Fortunately, she was out of sight amongst the trees. I was the only one who could see her because I had wandered past Sugar Cube Corner.
Me, that is, and a small purple filly with a diamond tiara resting on her head.
“Oh,” Peregrine said in her raspy-metallic changeling voice. “Hi kid…”
The filly turned and ran, green fire enveloping Peregrine as she shifted back to pegasus form. She was in deep trouble.
“Help!” screamed the filly, attracting the attention of the two royal guards who where still outside Sugar Cube Corner.
“What is it?” one asked, as they both rushed up to the little filly.
“Her!” the filly said, pointing at Peregrine. “She’s a changeling!”
“What? That’s a very serious accusation,” the other guard said, frowning. “Do you have any proof?”
“I saw her just now! She changed when she hit the tree!”
“Do you deny this?” the second guard asked Peregrine as she rubbed her head.
She nodded.
“Hmm…” the guard rubbed his chin, before noticing me.
“You there! Did you see what happened?” the guard asked.
“Yes.”
“What did you see?”
I looked at the guard, in my peripheral vision, I could see Peregrine looking hopelessly at me, but he already knew my answer.
“I saw her crash though the canopy and hit the tree. I did not see her become a changeling.”
The guard nodded. “Thanks.”
The filly looked taken aback. “What? NO!” she said before turning to the guard and issuing a stream of argument, threats, and ‘my father’s’. I walked over to Peregrine.
“Why did you lie?” she asked “You saw me become a changeling, why did you lie?”
I grinned at her. “I saw you become a changeling when you helped Hoofcraft with those shelves. I almost called the guard, but something didn’t add up. So I carefully questioned Spectrum, from her reaction I was able to glean that she knew about your secret, and that she wanted to keep it. I may not have known her for very long, but I trust her, and I trust her to do the right thing, and then I had and idea.” My grin grew even wider. “So I went to the Ponyvile library and looked you up in the local records, they said that you moved here from a town called Flank over in the Hoofington area. But when I looked at the Flank records, you were nowhere to be found. It’s as if you just appeared from nowhere, which means you probably didn’t take the place of some other pony. If you meant us harm, you would have replaced somepony. Probably in a high-up position, like the mayor.” I frowned. “The only thing I don’t know is why you are here.”
She smiled. “The reason I’m here, put quite simply, is freedom. It’s not any fun, being hated and feared. Spectrum found me smuggling people out of Canterlot during the invasion, and she was able to convince me to come to Ponyvile with her. And she was able to convince her friends to keep my secret.” She spread her wings, showing off her form. “Do you like it? She designed it right down to the cutie mark. Two spread wings, freedom.” She folded her own wings. “So, are you going to keep my secret?” I nodded.
“It would be a bit vindictive of me to tell the guards now, wouldn’t it?”
“Maybe,” she grinned.
I grinned right back. “Let’s go tell the others.”
Author's Note
Hoofington and Flank are Fallout Equestria: Project Horizons references, they belong to Somber, FoE belongs to Kkat, and MLP:FIM belongs to Hazbro. All OCs are mine.
The Life and Times of Literary Scroll
I was happy. Meeting Spectrum’s friends had finally destroyed the last of my writers block, and I had a job with the local paper doing a column on new book releases (which required reading brand new books as soon as they were on the shelves, for free, such hardship). I was now siting in the lounge drafting a review of a new title by the illustrious Skywriter, as my landmare held a conversation with Hoofcraft.
It couldn’t last.
“Aye! Ya wan’ a job?”
I looked across at Hoofcraft, who was sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table that presided over the living room.
“What?”
“De ya wan’ a job?”
I raised an eyebrow at him quizzically. “What kind of job?”
“A fetch quest iffin ya will. Ah wan’ ya to go an’ get me a ring o’ volumite crystal fro’ that mad ol’ badger wa runs the Trade Shack.” Hoofcraft shook his head. “Ah’d go mysel’ but ah need ta talk to a mare ‘bout a hammer.”
I raised my eyebrow again. “It’s a big hammer,” he shrugged.
I sighed. “Alright,” I agreed.
* * *
As I left (with a small bag of bits from Hoof to pay for the volumite), Spectrum looked askance at Hoofcraft. “That was evil,” she commented.
Hoof shrugged. “Ya were the one that said he didne get oot enough.”
* * *
It didn’t take long for me to find the Trade Shack. Everypony I asked about it rolled their eyes and pointed without looking in the general direction of a building with ‘Trade Shack’ hammered over the door with random pieces of board. I could have found it myself of course, but for some reason the building had been built facing an alley way.
Well, this should be good, I thought to myself as I entered.
The shop was dingy, not for lack of windows, but because the entire place was filled floor to ceiling with seemingly randomly stacked objects. Piles of totally random mess were everywhere, spilling out of cupboards and off shelves that themselves were piled on drifts so thick that it was impossible to see how big the room actually was. There only seemed to be one clearly maintained path, leading under archways of stacked detritus to a counter on the far side of the room.
I gaped at my surroundings for a minute before carefully making my way to the counter through the mishmash tunnel of stuff. Marvelling at the way the space, despite it’s wide range of colours, still managed to appear brown, I rung the bell on the counter.
“Yes?” said a voice, directly behind me.
I whipped round and was confronted with mane. A lot of mane. It almost engulfed the stallions head, as if it had been confused as to which way to grow, and had simply decided on everywhere at once. It also seemed to have been confused about wether to be black or white, because it was covered in splashes of each, making his head more striped than a zebra’s. The only thing keeping him from being blinded by his own hair was a HUGE pair of lenses in solid brass frames, revealing shockingly over-magnified blue eyes. The rest of his coat was a light grey, and his cutie mark showed a red targeting reticle over a pile of nondescript items. I could see a teddybear sticking out near the top.
“Well?” the stallion asked. He stood almost immobile, moving only those parts that were required for the word. Yet his voice carried an exited energy that, if released, would surely carry him through the nearest wall.
“Uhh…” I managed, scrambling wildly for a moment before finding my hoofing. “Hoofcraft sent me to get a ring of volumite?”
“AH!” the stallion cried, making me jump. He then dove headlong into the wall of detritus which swallowed him whole. I could hear him rummaging about in the pile, muttering to himself.
“SlpingsplangslpingsplangslpingsplangslpingsplangslpingsplangSPLONG!” with the last sentiment he exploded out of the wall, carrying a three hoof wide ring of blue crystal.
“Great!” I said, “Thanks Mr…”
“Spangler, Sir! Spangler!”
“Thanks Mr Spangler,” I grinned. “How much?”
Spangler suddenly hugged the ring protectively to his chest, shaking his head. “Not for sale!”
“What?” I balked.
Spangler suddenly stuck his hoof out at me. “We trade!”
I gave a sigh of relief. “Ok, so what do you want for it?”
Spangler didn’t reply, he just rammed his hoof into the wall of objects beside him, not taking his eyes off me, and retrieved a snow globe.
“This,” he said, face radiating seriousness.
“But you already have that?” I asked, confused. Spangler grinned.
“If Spangler have thing Sir wants to trade with Spangler to get thing Spangler has, Sir must trade Spangler for thing that Spangler has that Sir wants to trade with Spangler for thing Spangler has.” Spangler then sat triumphantly on his haunches as if what he had just said made perfect sense. Which, in a way, it did.
“I think I understood that,” I said. “So what do you want for the snow globe?”
* * *
“So let me get this straight,” I said ten minutes later, somewhat haggard. “You want the intricate ceramic vase for the sledge hammer which you want for the cracked bowling ball which you want for the fire tongs which you want for the brass monkey which you want for the golf clubs which you want for the golf balls which you want for the signed Fallout: Equestria hardbacks which you want for the complete set of five-hundred-year-old Summer Sun celebration commemorative mugs which were made last week in the Hoof which you want for the scrappy note book which you want for the snow globe which you want for the volumite ring.”
Spangler nodded enthusiastically from his upside-down position hanging and half buried in the detritus arch where he had found the last item.
I sighed. “And what do you want for the intricate ceramic vase?” Spangler grinned again.
“Sixty bits.”
* * *
I trotted towards Hoofcraft’s huge barn-like shed, the volumite ring hanging around my neck. It had taken over an hour to actually make the trade for the blasted thing, constantly passing items back and forth across the table to Spangler, who had insisted on inspecting each one to see if it was worthy of trade.
All in all, I was going to have some very choice words for Hoofcraft when I saw him.
There was a great clanking noise as I approached the shed, like falling anvils. I waited for a gap before knocking on the door. It was answered by a suit of military-grade black kevlar barding. I gaped at it for a moment before the helmet was removed, revealing a smiling but much less mysterious Hoofcraft.
“Great! Ya got th’ volumite,” he said, stepping aside. “Put it o’er on tha’ bench wouldya?”
I gazed round at the workshop. It was full of objects covered with lights and gears, circuits and clockwork. In one corner was a huge pile of old horse shoes, right next to a structure clearly being made out of them. Across the room was a plexiglass safety wall in front of an anvil with some dark metal framework on it. But, taking centre stage in the middle of the space, was a huge mixing table, with speakers two metres high and made from dark metal. One of the speakers was half disassembled, its frame missing and one of the basses removed.
“Like it?” Hoofcraft asked, watching me examine the system. “It belongs ta Waveform, ‘e got me ta build it for ‘im.” Turning back to the bench he added: “ ‘e didne think it’d be as powerful as it was, though.”
Picking up the ring and the missing bass he continued. “Th’ speakers use th’ natural resonance o’ th’ volumite t’ magically enhance themselves.” He clipped them together. “Puts a ‘zing’ in ya tweeter an’ a ‘thrum’ in ya bass.” He tinkered with the wires on the back and the speaker let out a low throb that I could feel pas through me. “Lovely.”
“OK,” I said. “Hey, I’d better get back to writing that review.”
“OK.”
I was about to leave when Hoofcraft retrieved his helmet and picked up a sledgehammer. The end shone with talismans as he lifted it into the air. He noticed my pause. “Big hammer.” He grinned through the helmet and brought the hammer down in an arc onto the frame on the anvil. The magically magnified impact blurred the anvil as it tried to escape the bolts holding it to the floor. The perspex flexed as a pressure wave hit it. Suddenly the need for the heavy-duty barding was almost painfully obvious. Hoofcraft lifted the hammer again, the frame had barely indented.
As I left, one thought passed through my head again and again. Why the Tartarus would you need a speaker frame that strong?
Author's Note
The Hoof is a Fallout Equestria: Project Horizons reference, which belongs to Somber, FoE belongs to Kkat, and MLP:FIM belongs to Hazbro. All OCs are mine.
Shout out to Skywriter: love your work, fimfiction page Here .
P.S. It is possible to say the ‘trade list’ sentence in one breath if you try hard enough.
The Life and Times of Literary Scroll
Chapter 4 - An Unexpected Journey.
“Waveform?”
I was standing, yet again, on a doorstep. This one belonged to the DJ mixer Waveform, a pony with even fewer social skills than myself.
“Come in!” was bellowed form the other side of the house.
I entered and found myself in a nondescript hall. Really it was, the most that could be said about it was that there were doors in it.
“I’m in the mixer room!” issued from behind one with an old vinyl on the front. The room beyond contained a digital mixing station, a sound board, and Waveform himself. The only other thing in the room was the posters for Vinyl Scratch concerts that were matched one for one by posters of his own concerts.
“Hello, I got the new banners from Spectrum,” I said, pulling one out of my saddle bags.
“Good, chuck ‘em in a corner.”
I did so, placing the banners in an empty corner, then waited for the other stallion to say something. When nothing happened, I swallowed. I normally would have just left. But Spectrum was trying to get me to be more sociable, and that meant that I was going to have to try and start a conversation.
“So, uhh…” I began, and Waveform turned his baleful gaze on me. “What are the banners for? Nopony’s actually told me.”
“They’re for the concert,” Waveform replied shortly, “that’s being held tomorrow.”
“Oh, um… you do concerts?” Waveform looked on flatly. The many posters for said concerts that adorned the walls seamed to be staring at me as well. “Uhh… yeah… don’t you get competition? Isn’t there some famous DJ who lives around her already?”
“Yes, Vinyl Scratch,” Waveform replied, just as shortly. “She’s in popular demand in places like Canterlot and Manehattan, so I take all the DJ jobs ‘round here.” His eyes softened and his voice gained some emotion, was that - excitement? “She’s actually coming back from a big gig in Fillydelphia today, and then she’s going to be at the concert tomorrow. With me!” He lifted one of the banners which showed heavily stylised versions of himself and a mare whom I recognised as Vinyl Scratch. Written across the image was the message: ‘DJ Pon-3 & Wavs’. You could practically smell the anticipation coming off the stallion.
Now that he had loosened up, he seemed to want to keep talking. “Hey, you want to see the Lady Margolotta?”
“Who?”
Waveform gestured for me to follow him, then led me round the back of his house to a cart with a tarp strapped over it. He pulled away the tarp, revealing the huge mixer desk and speakers from Hoofcraft’s shed.
“This,” he said, “is the Lady Margolotta. She has a frequency range of 8Hz to 24kHz, and an upper volume of, well…” Pulling the tarp further away, he jumped up onto the cart and opened a compartment behind the desk revealing a large octahedron crystal. I tried to follow, and failed. “This is an anti-resonance enchanted talisman, it’s a safety measure in cas-” I jumped up into the cart, but over compensated, hurling myself head first into the console. My head impacted with the talisman. We froze, I slowly pulled my head away, the crystal was still intact.
Waveform let out a sigh of relief. “Well,” he said, “that was clo-”
The stone crumbled into dust.
“No!” he cried, falling to his knees and trying to scoop up the dust in his hooves. Then he turned on me. “This is all your fault! I can’t use her safely now!” He dragged his hooves down his face. “This was going to be my one chance to play with Vinyl Scratch! And you crushed it!” He pointed an accusatory hoof at the pile. “Into DUST!”
Suddenly, there was a bright flash of light and a sound like a plunger being pulled from a sink.
“Marty! You’ve got to come back with me!”
There was also suddenly a dark blue unicorn with a brick red mane and tail hanging his forehooves around my neck.
“Argh! What the Tartarus?”
Waveform gaped at the newcomer. “Ex? What are yo-” but I interrupted.
“You know him?”
“Yeah, he’s the fifth member of our little group of friends, Extralateral.”
“He’s nuts!”
As if to corroborate, the stallion came out with; “Back, back to the future!”
Waveform frowned. “He is a bit, but he doesn’t do any harm, when he turns up it usually just means…” Waveform’s eyes popped wide. “Oh nonononono!” he tried desperately to back-pedal off the cart, but Extralateral grabbed his neck with a fetlock and pulled him in close.
“Roads? Where were going we don’t need roads!”
We disappeared in a flash, with a sound like a plunger being pulled from a sink.
* * *
I was lying on something hard and cold, I opened my eyes, and-
Crystals.
There were crystals everywhere; the ceiling, walls, and floor were all made out of the stuff. Waveform was lying a few feet from me, and Extralateral was bouncing happily across my field of vision, apparently completely unaffected by our sudden shift. I groaned.
“Where the Tartarus are we?”
Waveform pulled himself to his hooves. “Well, I wish I could say we where simply in the Palace or the Crystal Empire, but thanks to Extralateral, I doubt that’s the case.”
Now that I could get a good look at the stallion in question, I finally noticed his cutie mark; the shadows of three ponies layered on top of each other, the middle solid and the two flanking it translucent.
“That was a teleporting spell, wasn't it?” I asked.
“Not… exactly.”
I fixed him with a look. “What do you mean? ‘Not exactly’?”
Waveform sighed as he looked around. “Ex has a… talent. A talent for understanding the boundaries between worlds. He thinks in five dimensions, normal ponies can only think in four.” He started walking around, exploring the cave we were in. “Three basic dimensions; up and down, left and right, backwards and forwards. The fourth is time, but there is a fifth; world index. By moving on that dimension, you can travel between worlds. Ex understands how to do that.” He stopped. “No, he just doesn't just understand it, he sees it, breathes it. Pony minds aren’t built to think in five dimensions like that. Apparently he just… cracked .”
I realised my mouth was open and closed it. “How do you even know this? ‘Cause he clearly didn’t tell you.” I gestured at Extralateral, who was slowly licking his way across the floor. “Did he?”
Waveform shrugged. “The first time he transported us we ended up in a world that was one massive telepathic super consciousness. It could read Ex’s mind and tell us what happened.”
My left eyebrow walked the high wire.
“What?” he asked. “That’s what happened! You’re in an alternate dimension and you’re questioning this?”
I conceded that. “So how do we get out of here?”
“Just grab onto Ex and hold-” he looked over at Ex and gasped. “No, nonononono!”
Extralateral was floating in his own magic field, spinning himself with soft ‘wheee’ noises. Waveform dived for the unicorn, but before he reached him the stallion’s horn exploded, dropping him to the ground with soot on his face. Waveform looked on in horror.
“He burnt out,” he mumbled under his breath. “He burnt out!” He turned to me. “He burnt out his horn so now he can’t do the spell to get us home! We’re trapped here!”
Author's Note
OCs are mine, MLP:FIM belongs to Hazbro.
The Life and Times of Literary Scroll
It took five minutes for Waveform to calm down, in which time Extralateral had started skidding across the floor on his plot, giggling and then wincing when his horn sparked.
“Ok, I think I’m good,” Waveform said. “But what are we going to do now? We can’t leave until that dummy’s horn gets better.”
“We could explore this place,” I suggested. “I’ve always liked caves.”
“Yeah, might as well,” he said dejectedly.
We walked through the tunnel, Waveform gently pulling Extralateral by his tail. The cave we had been standing in was evidently a side passage because the cavern we were now standing in was vast . You could easily fit twenty ponies in this space and still have room for each to swing a cat. One end opened up to a tunnel leading upwards, the other diminished till it was only a few feet high. At that end were five stalagmite/stalactite structures with various shapes held in between, including a single octahedron crystal in the middle. I gasped.
“Is that…?”
“A fully-cut anti-resonance gem?” Waveform finished for me, just as surprised. “Yes, it is.”
He rushed forward, dropping Ex’s tail. He then carefully grabbed the crystal in his fetlocks, and pulled. With a soft grinding nose, the crystal came free. He clutched it to his chest protectively.
“Yes! Now I can use the Lady!” he grinned over and me and Extra- wait, where was Extralateral?
Looking around, I spotted him siting next to another of the crystal structures, this one carrying an orange dodecahedron. “Ex… what are you doing…?” I asked, cautiously.
He looked at me lopsidedly for a moment, then his head snaked forward and he swallowed the crystal whole. Waveform and I looked on in shock. He hiccuped, than started to vibrate. We both backed away instinctively as Extralateral’s eyes glowed with bright phosphorescence.
Suddenly he stopped, hiccuped again, and belched. From his mouth came a stream of raw orange plasma. The force of it pushed his head back, raking the beam across the ceiling, which began to shake and crumble around us. “RUN!” I screamed at Waveform and we both cannoned off up the tunnel at the far end of the cavern. It collapsed behind us as we threw ourselves forward onto a small beach at the bottom of huge crystal cliffs before a sea of fluid sapphire.
“Are you alright?” Waveform asked.
“Yeah…” I said looking back at the collapsed cave mouth. “Wait, where’s…?”
Extralateral cartwheeled across my vision, singing a drinking song along the lines of ‘oh they should’a’ just sent the whiskey!’
I gaped at him for a moment then turned to Waveform. We shrugged at each other simultaneously. “Hey, you ready to take us home yet?” I asked.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” he snorted, “Unicorn horns can be down for days after-”
Extralateral was levitating the crystal sand around him into the shape of a pony. “Are you my friend?” he giggled as the sand pony shrugged at him.
“Well, that stone must have done something right.” Waveform commented. “Well, are you ready to take us home?”
Extralateral cocked his head at him, hiccuping again.
“Right! Grab on!” Waveform yelled to me and we both grabbed the stallion around the neck, disappearing in a flash. With a sound like a plunger being pulled from a sink.
* * *
We reappeared sprawled beside the cart at the back of Wavs’s house, Extralateral rolling across the floor in an impossibly tight ball. Waveform wasted no time jumping up on the back of the cart, locking the new crystal into its slot in the mixer console. He sighed in relief.
“I can still do the concert with Vinyl!” he smiled over at us. “Heh, if Ex didn’t turn up when he did, I’d have had to cancel!”
I looked suspiciously at Extralateral, who was chewing his fetlock happily. I stared carefully into his eyes. “Thank you.”
He tilted his head on one side, hiccuped, and disappeared.
Waveform climbed down form the cart. “Heh, he stayed around longer than normal.” He turned to me, rubbing a hoof on the back of his head. “Listen I… sorry I snapped at you before, what happened was an accident, so yeah… sorry.”
I put a hoof on his shoulder, “Don’t worry about it, you’re just worried about doing a concert with your idol.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“Come on, after that I need some coffee.”
* * *
Extralateral was sitting at the top of the crystal cliffs. He was unusually silent, just siting and watching the fire ruby sun set over the sapphire horizon. “You’re welcome,” he whispered, then he threw himself off the cliff, executing a perfect summersault before vanishing in a flash of light, with a sound like a plunger being pulled from a sink.
* * *
“Hello Ponyville! ”
It was early evening the next day. The mixer stations of DJ Pon-3 and Wavs stood a few meters opposite each other, in the middle of and empty grassy area on the outskirts of Ponyville. I stood midway between them with Spectrum, Hoofcraft, and Peregrine. DJ Pon-3 was standing on her mixer desk, addressing the crowd.
“Man, it’s great to be back my Scratchers! ” her microphone-magnified voice echoed across the crowd. “And it is my great pleasure today to be working with Wavs, who has been taking good care of my homeys’ ears in my absence! ” I could practically feel the heat from Waveform’s face. “So without further ado! Let’s drop some bass! ”
She launched into a bassy dubstep mix, which cooled off after a minute or two, and gave over the stage to Wavs, who set off a darker, creepier mix. Once that had ended as well, they started trading off riffs, Vinyl adopting a more sophisticated tone and Waveform an aggressive, drum based one. Finally culminating in both playing at once, each vying for control yet still producing an epic harmony. Then they continued mixing songs one after the other for the rest of the evening. Ponies started leaving because of the lateness of the hour.
“Well, it seams the concert is nearly over, ” Pon-3 said, looking across at Waveform, “wanna end on a high note? ”
“Leave it to me, ” he said into his own microphone. “You’re gonna feel this one! ”
He reached down and pulled a lever on his console, the front of which split, revealing the anti-resonance crystal inside. It glowed, creating two concentric spheres of magical energy. One around his entire DJ station, the other protectively wrapping around himself.
“Eat rock! ” he screamed, then started an electric guitar based rock track. The air between the bubbles of magic rippled, stretching and distorting the image of Waveform as he manipulated the track. Any areas of ground unfortunate enough to be trapped between the bubbles were crushed to dust; the station was actually sinking into the earth as the dirt gave way around it. And he was right, you could feel the track as the vibrations in the ground made their way up your hooves and set into your bones.
Vinyl certainly could, she yelled and launched herself into the crowd, cheering just as hard as anyone else. My new friends where right beside her, screaming and shouting and just enjoying the adrenalin. And me?
I just couldn’t stop smiling.
~ The End ~
Author's Note
OCs are mine, (They should’a’ just sent the) Whiskey is a Fallout Equestria: Project Horizons reference, which belongs to Somber, FoE belongs to Kkat, MLP:FIM belongs to Hazbro.
If you want to know what the concert sounded like, here’s a fair approximation.
(Note: I do not have any affiliation with the following music pieces, they are simply what I imagine the concert would sound like.)
Vinyl’s first track: - Bass Cannon Stay Away Duelling DAWs Fatal (play at full volume… with headphones)
