Chapter I: When These Lands Were But Dust
The Unending Days Of The Curse:
Act I: Martyr
Chapter I: When These Lands Were But Dust
“Some say it was around since Discord. Others say since King Sombra. Even maybe since the Three Tribes.”
Light shined down on me from above as I exited the large forest, the Sun’s warm embrace welcoming me. Shifting the straps of my makeshift bag, I continued walking towards the opposite direction of the Sun. There was something… Coming, I could feel it. Not a storm, nor was it a sickness. It was something else, although I don't know what, yet. These lands were odd, and its inhabitants just like it. But, it has sort of a charm to it. If charm means horses that spout insults and steal food, that is. Not all of them are bad, though.
There has been some that caused some trouble for me in the past, but there’s a reason I carry a sword with me. Albeit it being short, and not that sharp, it got the job done, at least. One of these days, I might get a new one, or even steal one. It seems like these lands don’t have a ruler, or some kind of government, just survival of the fittest. And a small part of me likes that, honestly. Perhaps it's the fact that you have complete freedom and can go anywhere… With the added risk of theft and death, of course. But, that's the charm of it!
Maybe if I was only able to speak with the damn things, I wouldn't have to resort to threatening their life. I don't know their language, apparently they don't know English, or perhaps I don't know their language. Either way, I haven't had a two-way conversation in a while. Or at least, as long as I can remember. Remembering things is getting harder and harder these days, it's almost like I have amnesia or something. At least I know my own name, and what I am. Where I came from, or who I was before are just a few things I've forgotten, but it doesn't seem to be short term memory. More of a long term memory… Memories from before I came here.
Shaking my head, I ward off the depressing thoughts the best I could. Moping and complaining won't help my situation any better, no. Nowadays, happiness and faith are the only things I possess. I've lost all memory of my friends and family… What did I just say? Or think, anyways. Same thing. I smacked myself upside the head for disobeying my own orders, am I really that incompetent? If only I could ask for somebody’s opinion.
My feet crunched as they stepped into gravel, cracking the miniature rocks. Of course, since I don't any shoes anymore, they bore into the bottom of my feet, pushing into them and irritating the hell out of me. One of these days I'm going to learn to speak and politely ask for somebody to make me a pair, if only stopped from pillaging for a second. Truly these times are ridiculous, and just to make it worse, I am a part of it! It's almost as if I were a character of a story.
I climbed uphill, using my hands to help me ascend faster. That, and this bag is heavy and I could tumble down because of it if I'm not careful. My fingers dug into the cracks of the earth as I propelled myself higher a bit each time. Dirt began to seep under my fingernails, and coated my phalanges Brown. Not to mention the same was happening my feet as I climbed higher. Sweat piled up on my forehead and wet my long strands of black hair, the heat of the Sun and exertion causing it. Eventually, I reached the top of the hill and my eyes cast over the great view I've been bestowed.
There was tall mountains in the distance, which towered over the vast amount of plains and forest in front of me. To the East there was a small house, with an animal farm. At least, I think, my vision has failed me a few times. The West offered more forest, although it seems there is a small river running through, heading towards the house. Hopefully, whoever lives there isn't around, I could use something to drink. Taking a moment to think of a plan, I decide to fill up on water, and head towards the mountains. Perhaps there is peaceful civilization behind them?
Being extra cautious, I planted my bottom onto the ground and used my hands to manevour myself down the hill. I slid down the hill with relative ease, my bag sometimes getting snagged on a jagged rock or a protruding root. Once I arrived at the bottom, I picked myself up and continued approaching the river, anticipating the sweet taste of fresh, clean water. The sound of the current flowing reverberated in my ears as I kneeled down at the riverside. I cupped my hands and scooped a handful as best I could, and slurped it out of my palm.
Unwrapping the straps from my shoulders, I dropped my sack onto the ground, the items inside clacking against each other. I rummaged through the inside, my hands brushing up the rough interior of the bag, and the various objects in my possession. After extending my arm down further, it touched the circular flask at the bottom. The plastic exterior of it was smooth to the touch and had its own strap. Pulling it out, I unscrewed the cap and watched as the water rushed inside of it. Once I thought it was filled enough, I placed the cap back on and twisted it shut.
Before I stood back up, I dunked my head under water and raised it back up, soaking my head. The cool sensation of the water encompassing my head really helped me beat the heat. Even though I don’t have a calendar or any sense of date, the overwhelming heat and humidity tells me it's Summer. Sure, I can catch a heat stroke if I'm not careful or some kind of bollocks, but traveling is the only thing I have. I don't have any sort of knowledge of farming to grow food, and with my ignorance of the current language, I can't get a job or a house. It's really the only option I have.
I basked in the joy of the river for a moment more before I deemed it too long. As I stood up and slung my cargo over my shoulder, my stomach growled loudly, alerting my oblvious self to my hunger. Of course, when I was searching my bag for the flask, I didn't notice any food. Sighing, I glance around the river to see if there's any plants or fruits, or even any fish, but to no avail. When I turned back around to carry on, my eyes laid upon the house directly across from me. Looking to the mountains, I contemplated my choice until my stomach rumbled, reminding me I'm hungry.
Should I? There's only two things that can happen from this decision. One being that the prick that owns this shack is on vacation and I can take a small handful of food, and gladly go on my merry way. Two being that said prick is home and I get chased off the farm by a pitchfork. It's a clear fifty-fifty gamble, and both outcomes involve approaching the house in the first place. Once again, my famine makes itself known, and this time it hurts. Fine. I begin crawling out of the riverbed, and towards the house that seems to be barren. Of course, I don’t really know that, but still.
Crouching down some so I can avoid detection, somewhat, I hastily sneak up to the side of the house. Pressing my side up against the wall, my hand lies on the handle of my blade as I peek in through the many windows on the first floor. I stopped for a minute to see if I could hear anything, and the only thing that made a sound was the river. Approaching the door, I put my tan sack on the ground beside the door and gripped the door handle. A moment passes as I push the door inward, it slightly creaking as it opened up. Scanning inside, it looks empty.
Letting go of a breath I didn't know I had, I allowed myself to relax to some extent. But, I still had my guard up in case some one shows up. Entering the abode, I shut the door behind me as I fully stepped inside. I had to lower my head, as these doors are too small for me, and even then, the top of my head is scraping against the ceiling. It is an unpleasant feeling. The floor is unpolished wood, and I feel as though that when I exit here, my feet are going to have splinters. As for the contents of the shack, well, there isn't much. I mean, it's enough for one person, but anymore is pushing it, really.
There's one bed, although the way it's set up, and the way it's shaped, it's more comparable to a cot; it's tucked in to the left, in one of the corners. In the middle of the room is a cylindrical table, with a beautiful red vase full of daises on it. It seems to be made out of birch wood, but I haven't seen any birch trees for a while, so that implies they must have lugged it here. Nothing Else really catches my eye, it's just full of things that any normal house would contain, nothing to write home about. Just as I am ready to leave, I hear the sound of talking coming from outside.
I quickly run out of the house and snatch my bag, taking off towards the direction of the mountains that seem to be at the very top of the world. My lungs burn and my feet ache as I continue running, my ears taking in every sound at once; my heart, my footsteps, the river, and the shouting. Twisting my head backwards, I see two stallions chasing after me, both wielding axes. I don't know how I do it, but I kick into overdrive, and quicken my pace. I turn left and into the forest, jumping over fallen branches and roots sticking out of the ground.
Rays of sunlight shine down through the holes of the ceiling of leaves. If I wasn't currently running for my life, I'd take a moment to appreciate. The only thing I can hear right now is the crunching sound of my footsteps as sprinted over broken sticks and leaves that glided to the ground once. Oh, and hoofsteps that seem to stomp and crash into the ground, ringing in my ears as my body aches. The contents of my homemade bag banged together inside, and smacked against my back. Everything just sucks right now.
A whistling sound echoed in my head, not just ears, moments before I felt a sharp and clear pain in my leg. I shot a glance downwards and saw that an axe is currently lodged inside my shin! I can’t stop, I'll die, they made that abundantly clear. A few more steps were made before I dropped to the ground, the pain overwhelming me. Gripping the axe, I counted to the number three before yanking it out. Flesh teared and blood splattered onto to the ground, leaking out of the massive wound like a faucet. My fist slammed on the ground as I grit my teeth, my dirty fingernails dug into the palm of my hand, drawing blood. I'm going to bleed out.
Grabbing the bloodied axe, I flipped over onto my back and chucked it towards my pursuers, but to no avail. It whizzed past their heads, and pierced a nearby tree, pieces of bark shattering. Oh give me a break! Blood continued to squirt out of my leg, leaving a massive puddle of crimson colored liquid to assimilate and soak the entire lower portion of my body. I tried moving even in the smallest way, and my body roared in agony. Blackness entered my vision as I watched two stallions catch up to me.
Pushing myself upwards, I screamed as I extended an arm forward, my fingers digging into the dirt as I pulled myself forward. Thoughts and memories swam through my mind, both good and bad, as the feeling in my leg disappeared. Propelling myself forwards once again, I moaned in pain as the world around me got darker, and the feeling in my body kept vanishing. My free hand smacked my leg as hard as I could, and white hot pain shot through my leg, an involuntary shout escaping my throat. Before I could reach my hand out again, a hoof stepped onto it.
The sound of nature took over as I breathed heavily; the chirping of birds and crickets, a faint river sound. It was silent, and peaceful. But, I was taken back to reality when one of the stallions began speaking to the other, I suppose about the fate of me. Once again, the feeling began to leave, and the light started to fade, and I can't hit my leg again, not without fear of going into shock. Instead, I slowly inch my left hand towards the sheath of my sword. Before I can, one notices and his horn powers up, pulling it out. I don't care, I'm going to die any second here. Darkness swallows my vision, and everything stops at once.
Chapter II: Actions Speak Louder
The Unending Days Of The Curse
Act I: Martyr
Chapter II: Actions Speak Louder
“Guardian, have you ever found yourself in a situation where you think you can't escape? That you can't win?”
Everything begins at one at time. First my hearing; the sound of chattering reverberates in my ears. The dull pain of my leg awakens and it pounds like the beating of a heart. Then, everything begins at once; the hunger, the dehydration, the aching. The memories of what happened last jolts my body and I open my eyes, revealing two orange orbs staring down at me. My heart jumps into my throat as I yell, scurrying away from the pony. I reach for my sword, only for my hand to smack against my bare ass. I just accidentally spanked myself. Now that I look, I notice I'm naked.
I glance around, and take in my surroundings, the realization that I'm back at the house reaching me. I prop myself up on my elbows, my heart rate returning to normal. The mare that scared me is watching me from the side, an amused smile plastered on her face. She is colored like an orange, and her hair is as grey as a dark storm, but has light strands of white, but she appears to be young. The same eyes that nearly gave me a heart attack are a lighter shade of orange. The mark on her backside appears to be a red plus sign, with a leaf behind it.
This is the first time I've been close to a pony, without them robbing me or trying to murder me. Of course, I have had a few clever ones deceive me into trusting them, but not anymore. These days, I stay as far away as possible. Keeping my distance and remaining independent is what has kept me alive. Taking from nature and stealing is how I live, not living in debt. She'll probably ask to work her garden or lick her hooves! I can't have this. It's not the way I live, and it's not the way I want to live.
Time is a difficult subject for me. I feel as though a significant amount of time has passed, but my body has not aged, nor my mind. The way the world has changed, species have evolved, things have changed, but… I don’t know. All I know is I have to keep moving, trust no one, and keep myself intact. Something big is coming, I just don't know when or where. But I don't want to be around when it does it. Knowing me, though, I'll be drawn to it anyway, without really knowing why.
Wandering the world, it has opened my eyes to many things. The beauty of nature, the deep wonders of the Sun and the Moon, but one thing has always stuck out. The true intentions of people. People, er, ponies will wear a face different from their own, shielding themselves. They'll wear it until time is worthless, and they don't have to be afraid. Whether or not if you're what they're afraid of doesn't matter, but instead of what you intend on doing. You can instill fear on implications.
The mare entered my vision, her mouth in motion, but words of another language leaving it. One of these days, I need to educate and myself on their language; many situations have ended poorly because of a lack of communication. She continued speaking, but I guess my expression made her stop. Another onslaught of words left her mouth, but I shook my head at them. Silence ensued between us until she got up, and left the house. Before I could attempt to leave, she returned with a notebook and quill and ink.
Handing them to me, I held the quill in my right hand before dipping it in the pot of ink. Tapping it on the rim so it doesn't drop ink on the floor, I began writing a relatively easy sentence, just to test if she can understand my written language. The quill danced around the paper, swirling and twisting around as I wrote, words forming on the piece of paper. Ink imprinted on the paper and leaked somewhat through to the other page. The grey maned mare watched quietly as I wrote. I finished it up with a question mark before turning it around and showing the pony.
She leaned in to read it, but she looked confused before shaking her head. Sighing, I dropped my head onto to the notebook, ink staining my hair as I closed my eyes. If only I could speak to these blasted creatures, I wouldn't have to resort to being alone and stealing! There truly is no way to talk with these bloody horses. Lifting my eyelids, I looked up and my eyes darted around the room, studying the various objects in it, seeing them as pictures in a frame. Wait, that gives me an idea.
Placing the tip of the quill on the paper once more, I began drawing the items that were scattered around the house, occasionally glancing up to check on them to have a close look alike. The black liquid slid around the page as my hand moved in different directions. Soon, the table, the bed, the walls, the windows, the door, and even the pony were all inside the paper, staring at me. Satisfied with the drawing, I showed the mare. She smiled and nodded her head.
Okay, so I have a way of talking with people, albeit it being in the worst possible way considering I'm not a very good artist. Flipping the page over to the next, I began drawing a replica of my makeshift brown bag I made awhile back, taking my time to add detail so she understands it as much as possible. I don't want the possibility of her handing me a pear instead. While it would feed me for a short time, it would not be very good at carrying things. Unless there's some kind of thing carrying pear I don't know about… Why am I thinking about this?
Twirling my hands around, I show her the attempt at drawing my bag, all though it seems that it worked. She nodded with a slight smile, walking off to one of the corners of the room, rummaging around for it until she found it. Returning with it, I gently took it from her hooves, gazing into her eyes. Once it was in my grasp, I began searching through it, keeping an eye out for my flask. My throat was dry as a desert, and for the second time in a while, I yearn for some delicious water. When it doesn't show up, I draw the item in mind and show the mare. She shook her head no.
Where'd it go? I distinctly remember filling it with water from the river, and then placing it back into the bag. What kind of complete crisis could have occurred that made my flask just vanish? It have a change of heart and walk off, wanting to start a new life, and settle down? The only reasonable explanation is that those two stallions that chased me stole it from me before dragging me back here. But, that makes no sense, why would they injure me but then heal me? Glancing at the bag, I noticed a medium sized rip on the side, near the bottom. My tongue found itself into the inside of my cheek.
I found myself falling to the action of drawing as I drew various shapes and lines, ink forming a picture, me and my quill at the helm. I narrowed my eyes as I scribbled and scrawled across the blank yellow paper, my mind placing itself into the page. I forget the full saying, or maybe the correct one, but a single picture means a thousand words. It's something along those lines, or maybe I don't even what I'm bloody talking about. Most likely the latter, honestly.
When I gazed down again, two gruff looking stallions sat on the page, their expressions showing of wrath and anger. In their grasps, are two fire chopping axes, their long handles wrapped in their hoof. Blood coats one of their blades, expressing the violence and brutality of what happened to land me in here. Pursing my lips, I contemplated showing the mare this. I mean, what if it offends her and she tries to kick me out? Sighing, I handed her the notebook, anticipating her response.
Her face contorted from curiosity to sorrow, her eyes flickering to my injured leg before back to me. She lifted her hoof and pointed outside, to the garden that stood outside. Leaning over, I noticed the same two stallions that maimed me working on the crops, shoveling and pulling food out. I placed my back against the wall, my emotions out of whack. There they are, the two responsible for robbing me of my one and only form of traveling, not to mention causing me an unimaginable amount of pain. Bloody hell, I can’t catch a break.
I never had this many problems in the past, at least, none that I remember. A few scuffs here and there, leaving with a couple scratches and my dignity intact, but I can just throw that out of the window now. It seems like trouble just revolves around me, like a moth to a flame, it's quite ridiculous. What's odd is that I never had any problems regarding my species, just the fact that I'm alive and well. No, being a six foot hairless ape creature is perfectly, but it's a crisis if I am breathing! For goodness sake.
Suddenly, my stomach rumbles loudly and I look down at it. The pony giggles before standing up and leaving the house, the door swinging shut behind her. That's right, I never had the pleasure of placing food in my mouth and chewing it and swallowing it, because I instead had the pleasure of having an axe lodge itself into my shin and swallow blood! But, no it's perfectly fine. It's not if I need to eat to live or anything, no! Completely and utterly preposterous.
In the past, I just grabbed whatever fruits and plants I could carry as I went along, or if needed, stole them from ponies or houses. I haven't had the proper equipment or time to cook meat, or get any, for that matter. And as much as I hate the little bloody horses, I'll never resort to eating them. They are sentient beings, even if they are dirty little pricks that enjoy thievery and assault. No one deserves to be eaten, alive or dead. Of course, it's debatable depending on the person.
After a few seconds of silence and other things of the same category, the pony entered the house once again, a few carrots in her hoof. Approaching me, she offered me the three orange, and delicious looking carrots. Nodding my head, I took them from her before I began devouring the first one, loud crunching sounds filling the room as I munched on the juicy vegetable. Soon after, the other two phallic objects joined the first one inside of me. I sighed before closing my eyes.
I'm letting this bother me too much, I think. It's because I never stay still for too long, I always have to move, always have to keep my feet in motion, even if they are in poor condition. Wandering is all I've been doing for the longest time, I just keep walking. Because of this, I never met any friendly ponies, even if I think they don't exist, never made any connections. For goodness’ sake, I haven't even spoken a word in forever! But I continue to indulge in this knobbish behaviour and refuse to rest.
But, if I didn't, I wouldn't have been exposed to what I've seen. All the breathtaking landscapes, the true beauty of nature and its many amazing animals, not to mention I wouldn't be in top top shape from all this walking, so there's that. Granted, I wouldn't be robbed and have many attempts on my life, but that’s the just way it is now, I have to accept until someone steps up to save us or unite us. Of course, the way I feel as a storm brews closer to me continues to be that I'm connected to it. It follows me everywhere I go, uncannily.
The time and date has also lost me. I'm too busy running away and trying to stay alive that I forgot to check the calendar! It's not like I can just go up to somebody and go ‘Well, hello there, can you stop trying to kill me long enough for me to ask you the date? Wait, what's that? I might as well be talking to myself because no one knows my language? Well, excuse me!’. Whatever language they speak is a language I want to speak, because maybe it would prevent some unwanted encounters in the future.
As I lay on the cot, I try to reflect on my past, on what I've done, where I've been, who I was, only for the sick realization that I'm forgetting something everyday hits me like a wall. If only… No, that's impossible, not to mention suicidal. I feel sleep’s sweet and warm hug embrace me as I drift away into an eternal land breathing of dreams and nightmares, as well as my thoughts and emotions...
* * *
The universal sound of crickets chirping filling my ears comes first, reminding me of late, warm summer nights. Raising my eyelids, I'm awarded with the sight of not orange orbs, but instead a single one of white, beaming down on me from the black, star filled sky. I always appreciated the Sun and its everlasting warmth, but the Moon has a deep light that I adore. Blinking, I glance over to the rest of the room, the bright side of the Moon lighting the room for me.
The Orange mare sleeps silently on a blanket on the floor, cuddled up with herself. As much as they are pains in the ass, the cheeky bastards are cute… Well, I thought that. Oh, well. Sitting up, I swing my left leg over, but struggle with my injured leg. I grit my teeth as I pick it up with my arms, heaving it over the edge. I sit and swing my legs as I think about what I want to do, or at least, what I wish to do. Can't do much with a mangled leg, thanks for that, you pricks!
This is the best possible time to leave. No one is around, no one is awake, and I can even grab a few things; and leave with a head start this time. But, of course, traveling with leg would be an absolute pain in the arse, and wouldn't do me any good in the healing sense. I can't stay here, though. How long before they ask me to work for them, or even try to kill me? It's too much of a risk, but it's damned if you do, damned if you don't right now. I'm screwed either way, I just need to figure out which one nails me harder.
Let's see… Walking would be difficult, I would most likely need a stick as a substitute to a cane to aid me in this most simplest of tasks, one that comes to you naturally, one that has been made hard for me because some prick thought it would be funny to chuck an axe and see what would happen! I seriously hope you contract the worst kind of cancer and rot! I then noticed that my hands are balled up and my breathing is heavy… Dialing it down a bit would help.
I placed a hand on my chest and inhaled, before extending it as I let the breath out… Much better. Okay, now for the second option, which is just as bad. Staying here would I mean I can heal properly, but most likely at the cost of all my property, my freedom, and my life. Of course, I could be overreacting, but who doesn't these days? I mean, the mare seems decent, but the two stallions? I may have to axe them a question or two when they wake up. If I'm even here.
Glancing down at the sleeping pony, I make my final decision. Pushing myself up off the cot, my hands slip and I land on my back, my head smacking against the hard floor. I curse quietly to myself before looking over to the pony. She's still asleep… Good. Making my way to my feet, I put my pressure on my left leg, and I try to minimize the amount on my messed up leg to a bare minimum. I slide my way to the table where my sack lies.
Taking a moment to assure I won't slip or fall, I begin to rummage through the contents of the bag, checking to see if everything is in there… But then I remembered the rip on the side, and realized that some things could have fell out. Bollocks. It's going to have to do for now. Picking up the bag, I along it over my shoulder, tying the strap around me as I tip-toe around the small pony. Once I was sure that I was safe, I creaked the door open and slipped outside into the cool night.
Using the house as a support, I slowly inched my way around the side of the house, to the one facing the tall, snowy mountains. As I was stumbling, my foot bumped into something cold and metal. Shooting a glance down, I signed in relief. A weapon! I bent down to retrieve the steel wood chopping axe, gripping the wooden handle in my palm. I flipped it around and stopped. It was stained with crimson colored liquid all across the side of blood, trailing down to the handle; this is my own blood. Closing my eyes for a moment, I re-open them and continue on.
When I finally lost the support of the walls of the house, I stumbled and fell as I struggled to walk under the dark blue sky, twinkling stars watching me, but not aiding. Fatigue wore me down, as well as hunger and dehydration, but I didn't stop. I could not. It was not in my nature. For if I stayed, even if I did know, the storm would have passed and those ponies would have not awakened to the dawn of day. That's why I must go.
My chest heaves as I fall down onto my hands and knees, grunting as I felt the hard rocks under my skin dig into it, an unusual and unpleasant feeling for sure. I unwrap the straps of my sack and throw it deeper into the hollow cave, my axe along with it. I crawl until I collapse, until my eyes gaze up at the ceiling of the cave. My body has given up on me, it seems. Attempting to get up, I fall once more. No, it's impossible. I need to rest.
“What, are you going to give up now? Get up, you have thousands of miles to go.”
Impeding my vision was a pony that was as black as a bug, and, at least, as tall as me. Her green, cat-like pupils stared down into my eyes, as if she was reading my mind. A light green colored mane swept over her the top of her eyes and fell over her head as she stood above me. And on her muzzle was a smirk, her fangs protruding in front of her other teeth. She raised her hoof, and inspected it, before grinning at me through the one hole in her forearm.
“Peek-a-boo!”
