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.